I have made peace with the fact that I am not meant to be a biological mother in this life. It was hard and it took time to get here. Every so often my grief is triggered by an innocuous comment, a baby’s coo, a toddler’s wobbly steps. It is ultimately ok because it is part of my path and process in life. This path has led me to understand and thus embrace the liberties I am blessed with in not being a parent. Those that are parents may not understand this because they have not had to cross that bridge. While we can easily make comparisons on what we each have and don’t have; let us simply respect our different journeys.
In “Celestial Happenstance”, a recent blog from the third perspective, I shared a recent experience that drudged up the part of myself that wanted to be a mother. As I sat, deep in breath, navigating the rolling waves of emotions, I understood what was needed: to look at that part of myself - to see and feel her. In my path of grievance into healing, I had forgotten to bring her along.
This blog is dedicated to giving her a voice. This entry opens up my past paternal desires to the world. In doing so, I hope to further heal my heart.
My name is Tania and I was born to be a mother. It was a story that began not by my own actions or beliefs, but from my mother’s guidance. From a young age she prepared me for motherhood with insightful advice that grew over time into a sophisticated rolodex of information. I was on alert anytime a child was present so as to anticipate and possibly predict their quick actions in case they put themselves in danger of getting hurt. There were many data files I had at the ready, such as: cradle a newborn baby’s head to prevent injury to their delicate neck, always anticipate a baby tipping back or forward when they are learning to sit, and if a baby manages to grasp a cluster of long hair, carefully pull their fingers away one by one (rather than sliding the hair out of their clutch) so as not to cut their skin.
This ingrained instruction caused me to feel naturally ordained as a mother. So, from a young age I stock piled names in my mind, because I believed I would have two girls. They would receive my favorite names: Brooklyn and Alexandra. I assumed I would be a brilliant and busy “soccer-mom-type”; bustling the girls back and forth from their extracurricular activities, hosting the coolest sleep-overs, having The Talk about puberty, sex, maturation, love and broken hearts.
I vouched to be entirely different from my mother in that love would be unconditional; not earned through approval rates. I would advocate for their individuality and not compete with them, be critical or force them to conform. I would encourage them to speak their voice, show their strength and understand the difference between resistance and resilience. I would honor their ways of expression and remind them to stay truthful to themselves, always. As often as needed, I would invite them to check in with themselves: to see how they felt emotionally and energetically, to prioritize their self care and to never leave themselves for last.
I was going to be such a super cool mom! I’d give them a thumbs up on body art; just be safe and wise about it. I would buy them each a shot of tequila when they turned of age. I would encourage them to study abroad, travel as far as possible and often. Study various cultures, learn another language, embrace your passion, study what you’re excited about - not what you have to.
I was excited to see them blossom, spread their wings and fly out into the world as adults. I looked forward to how and when they became their own person in every way and even told myself I would be excited to reinvent their room into something fun for their father and I after they moved out.
No matter their gender identity, shape, size, hair style, I would love them. I would be honest and ask the questions that needed to be asked. No sugar coating. I would make the statements that needed to be said for truth’s sake so they would always be reminded to stay in their Truth, speak their truth and live their truth so as to live their life wisely, and as such, generously.
She - that part of me - had a genuine intention to Love - fully, unconditionally and infinitely. That love is not lost for Love is an energy that never dies. Love can transform and transcend. While I recognized the part of myself that had wanted to be a mother is not, her voice no longer remains in the shadows. My hope is that by bringing her into the light can be healing for myself and other women like me - that for whatever the reason they are not biological mothers - they too can heal into a new way of offering nurturing, compassion and care.
Where I start and return to, again and again, is Love of Thyself. We all need to start there, here, and truly live IN loving ourselves because it is what the world needs right now. More Self love.