The Making of a Mama
There are some things in life that I feel uncertain about, such as career choices and what purpose I am supposed to be fulfilling. Most of the time, I have a feeling that my career is not the finite, end-all-be-all of who I am "going to be" when "I grow up."
One thing I am certain of is that I always wanted to be a mom, for as far back as I can remember. Not once did this desire waiver of the many years of my life, selfish teenage years included. Year after year, I struggled to find someone to love who would love me back, and even when I found Brandon, it was not without many challenges ahead. All around me, I watched girls become mothers. Some of them were literally just that-young girls, that despite my love for them as people, were not yet ready to become mothers. For some of them, motherhood was the best thing that could have happened. It helped shape them into the people they were, hidden under layers of other "stuff." Others I've watched continue their selfish journey through life, putting their own needs and desires far above what their children need and want and deserve in life. I don't mean material things, either.
By no means am I claiming to be a perfect mom or even a great mom...
My own mom has set an awesome example for me of what a great mom is and what she does. She's loved me unconditionally, forgiven me always, been openly imperfect, and she knows me better than anyone. Part of what she gave up when she became my mom was getting a college education. Instead, she spent my whole life growing up working two jobs. She ran a state-certified in-home daycare, and she worked a couple nights a week and a couple shifts a weekend as a supervisor at our local K-Mart. My mom knew everyone in town, and there wasn't a person she ran into that didn't truly enjoy seeing her and talking to her. She has that same affect to this day. Watching her handle several babies at a time, or toddlers, or a mix of both taught me so much about how to handle the growing minds and bodies and personalities of little ones. In fact, many of the things I learned from her carry over not only into my own parenting, but into the kind of teacher I am. If I could give her my college degree, she would be the most amazing teacher out there, far better than I am without a doubt.
Besides my mom, there have been many other things that I shaped the mother I've become. Having RSD has been one of them. Most of my teenage years were spent just trying to survive. There are more RSD suffers in the U.S. today than both AIDS and breast cancer combined. However, many patients get misdiagnosed (often with fibromyalgia) or treated like a mental case. For many, this illness is crippling to the point of becoming wheelchair bound. Some RSD patients take their own life or spend their lives in the fog of pain medication that still doesn't ease their suffering. I lost my dream of becoming a concert violinist to RSD. Friends. My identity. I doubted that I would ever be self sufficient or that I'd find someone who could love me, broken and sick. Beyond that, I doubted that I would ever actually get to become a mom, the one thing I really wanted.
Having RSD has literally changed my brain, my central nervous system. One effect of having RSD is suffering the emotional side affects such as depression and anxiety. This certainly was a catalyst for my post-partum depression. I thought things that no mother wants to think or even admit. I was so afraid of anything happening to Ayla that I began to worry that I would hurt her. I never wanted to hurt her, but I was just so terrified and all the stories I've ever heard about mothers with PPD flooded my mind, tormenting me. Just for having those thoughts, I felt like a worthless mother, a failure, undeserving of such a perfect, wonderful, beautiful child. Month after month, I tried to fix myself, an impossibility for anyone who has truly suffered the devastating affects of PPD or post partum anxiety. I would hold Ayla hour after hour, never wanting to put her down out of the guilt I felt. Putting her in the swing so I could nap or relax for awhile meant my failure as a mother.
Getting help was the best thing I did. To this day, I still take a low dose of Zoloft, and I can't say that I don't ever feel that dark cloud creeping up on me. But I am well; I can manage even with the pressures of my job, financial struggles, and all those other fun adult things.
The struggles I have gone through in life have made me a mother full of compassion and understanding. For Ayla, I want her to have the wonderful health I was robbed of. But I am so grateful that I get to be an active participant in her life. I get to read her stories and play with her. My physical problems don't keep me from being able to pick up my own daughter. 10 years ago, I could hardly carry a bag of groceries. My desire to be a mom and the blessing that I have of actually getting able to be a mom make me so appreciative.
Most parents will understand what I say when I tell you that my daughter takes my breath away. She is the most perfect, amazing little human being I've ever met. When she says "Mama, mama, mama" when I'm outside her line of vision, I know how important I am (even though she wants nothing more than to confirm visually that I'm still there-haha) to this little person. She learns so much from me. We read and talk a lot. She teaches me about life, reminds me of the magic and wonder that we adults sometimes forget.
Being a good mom, great mom, or "perfect" mom isn't something I strive for. What I want is to be Ayla's mom. We are growing together, and I am still becoming the person and mom I am meant to be. I don't think I have it all right, but I know that I am making the best, most heartfelt and educated decisions I can for her. I don't want to become a certain kind of mom so much as I want to become the mother my children need.
Someday, when Ayla is a grown woman and facing the challenges of life, I hope that she knows I am there for her and behind in her in everything she does.
Someday, when I'm gone, I hope Ayla can say that she knows the woman her mother was, just like I know the woman my mother is.
Someday, I hope that by my example, Ayla will become the kind of mother her children need. I hope that in becoming a mother herself, she will realize on some level just how much she means to me.
Not much I know for sure, but I know for sure I was meant to be Ayla's mama.
One thing I am certain of is that I always wanted to be a mom, for as far back as I can remember. Not once did this desire waiver of the many years of my life, selfish teenage years included. Year after year, I struggled to find someone to love who would love me back, and even when I found Brandon, it was not without many challenges ahead. All around me, I watched girls become mothers. Some of them were literally just that-young girls, that despite my love for them as people, were not yet ready to become mothers. For some of them, motherhood was the best thing that could have happened. It helped shape them into the people they were, hidden under layers of other "stuff." Others I've watched continue their selfish journey through life, putting their own needs and desires far above what their children need and want and deserve in life. I don't mean material things, either.
By no means am I claiming to be a perfect mom or even a great mom...
My own mom has set an awesome example for me of what a great mom is and what she does. She's loved me unconditionally, forgiven me always, been openly imperfect, and she knows me better than anyone. Part of what she gave up when she became my mom was getting a college education. Instead, she spent my whole life growing up working two jobs. She ran a state-certified in-home daycare, and she worked a couple nights a week and a couple shifts a weekend as a supervisor at our local K-Mart. My mom knew everyone in town, and there wasn't a person she ran into that didn't truly enjoy seeing her and talking to her. She has that same affect to this day. Watching her handle several babies at a time, or toddlers, or a mix of both taught me so much about how to handle the growing minds and bodies and personalities of little ones. In fact, many of the things I learned from her carry over not only into my own parenting, but into the kind of teacher I am. If I could give her my college degree, she would be the most amazing teacher out there, far better than I am without a doubt.
Besides my mom, there have been many other things that I shaped the mother I've become. Having RSD has been one of them. Most of my teenage years were spent just trying to survive. There are more RSD suffers in the U.S. today than both AIDS and breast cancer combined. However, many patients get misdiagnosed (often with fibromyalgia) or treated like a mental case. For many, this illness is crippling to the point of becoming wheelchair bound. Some RSD patients take their own life or spend their lives in the fog of pain medication that still doesn't ease their suffering. I lost my dream of becoming a concert violinist to RSD. Friends. My identity. I doubted that I would ever be self sufficient or that I'd find someone who could love me, broken and sick. Beyond that, I doubted that I would ever actually get to become a mom, the one thing I really wanted.
Having RSD has literally changed my brain, my central nervous system. One effect of having RSD is suffering the emotional side affects such as depression and anxiety. This certainly was a catalyst for my post-partum depression. I thought things that no mother wants to think or even admit. I was so afraid of anything happening to Ayla that I began to worry that I would hurt her. I never wanted to hurt her, but I was just so terrified and all the stories I've ever heard about mothers with PPD flooded my mind, tormenting me. Just for having those thoughts, I felt like a worthless mother, a failure, undeserving of such a perfect, wonderful, beautiful child. Month after month, I tried to fix myself, an impossibility for anyone who has truly suffered the devastating affects of PPD or post partum anxiety. I would hold Ayla hour after hour, never wanting to put her down out of the guilt I felt. Putting her in the swing so I could nap or relax for awhile meant my failure as a mother.
Getting help was the best thing I did. To this day, I still take a low dose of Zoloft, and I can't say that I don't ever feel that dark cloud creeping up on me. But I am well; I can manage even with the pressures of my job, financial struggles, and all those other fun adult things.
The struggles I have gone through in life have made me a mother full of compassion and understanding. For Ayla, I want her to have the wonderful health I was robbed of. But I am so grateful that I get to be an active participant in her life. I get to read her stories and play with her. My physical problems don't keep me from being able to pick up my own daughter. 10 years ago, I could hardly carry a bag of groceries. My desire to be a mom and the blessing that I have of actually getting able to be a mom make me so appreciative.
Most parents will understand what I say when I tell you that my daughter takes my breath away. She is the most perfect, amazing little human being I've ever met. When she says "Mama, mama, mama" when I'm outside her line of vision, I know how important I am (even though she wants nothing more than to confirm visually that I'm still there-haha) to this little person. She learns so much from me. We read and talk a lot. She teaches me about life, reminds me of the magic and wonder that we adults sometimes forget.
Being a good mom, great mom, or "perfect" mom isn't something I strive for. What I want is to be Ayla's mom. We are growing together, and I am still becoming the person and mom I am meant to be. I don't think I have it all right, but I know that I am making the best, most heartfelt and educated decisions I can for her. I don't want to become a certain kind of mom so much as I want to become the mother my children need.
Someday, when Ayla is a grown woman and facing the challenges of life, I hope that she knows I am there for her and behind in her in everything she does.
Someday, when I'm gone, I hope Ayla can say that she knows the woman her mother was, just like I know the woman my mother is.
Someday, I hope that by my example, Ayla will become the kind of mother her children need. I hope that in becoming a mother herself, she will realize on some level just how much she means to me.
Not much I know for sure, but I know for sure I was meant to be Ayla's mama.
Thanks for sharing Amber. You're so inspiring to me.
ReplyDeleteYou take my breath away with your insight. You say so many things exactly right. Your willingness for introspection will make you the best mom you can be. As you said, being Ayla's mom does not mean you are perfect. Being the best mom you can means making the best choices- with the knowledge and resources you have at the moment. You are doing that every day and it shows. I remember going to salvation army once to get food for us for the night (when I was a single parent) and thinking I was a bad mom that I had to do that. Then I reminded myself-I did what had to be done, my daughter would have dinner, I was doing the best I could with what I had. Your (our) struggles do make us strong, they do make us compassionate, they do make us resourceful. Sometimes (like now) I am so exhausted I want to give up-but tomorrow is another day. Hang in there!
ReplyDeleteYou brought tears to my eyes
ReplyDelete