A Mother of a Different Color

Ever since I can remember, I have heard stories about my brother. No, not the brothers that I am lucky enough to know today, but the little boy who was taken from my mother way too soon. She has always spoken with him, and of him, with such love and fondness that I cannot help but think of him as he would have been. It is because of my mothers openness with me and her always being so upfront and honest about her struggles to become a parent, that allows me to know how truly lucky I have been on my path to becoming a mother. It changes you when you grow up knowing how hard it was for your mother to make you, how long she waited to meet me. I was her first child, but I was her 6th pregnancy. I remember being so unbelievably scared when I became pregnant with my oldest son, because I had no way of knowing how my family history would affect me, the way it had the rest of my family. And though it was far from being the easiest pregnancy, the Lord blessed me with a happy, healthy baby boy. And since then I have been doubly blessed. And even now, as I enter my third pregnancy, my joy is mixed with this overwhelming guilt. I am not ashamed to say that I in the midst of my joy, have cried many tears. I have watched so many people that I love more than anything in this world, struggle on their path to motherhood. Some of them have come out on the other side of that journey, some are still in the thick of it, but I ache for them all. I wish I could give them my body, I yearn to heal their hearts, I pray feverishly that their pain could end. And I know it sounds ridiculous that I hold their pain so close, but when I look into the faces of my children and I think of how hard I love these women, I want so badly for them to know what I know. And so I carry my guilt. I once said to a friend who had a long road of infertility that we all have our paths to motherhood, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. And I believe that. Too many people think these women should move on, that they should look towards the future and stop holding on to what could have been. I dare those people to look into the faces of their own children and say that they would have been okay just moving on from them and acting as though it never happened. You just can't. In an America where unplanned pregnancies run rampant, it is all too easy to forget those families out there who are working so hard towards starting their family. It is so hard to remember that babies just don't appear out of thin air, though it may seem that way. I just implore those wonderful, loving women to use my own mother as role model. After five pregnancies doctors wanted to tell my mother to give up, but had she listened she would have never been blessed with two happy, healthy little girls. You should never lose hope, you should never let go of that desire to be a mother. There will be days where it will seem all so overwhelming and painful, but the Lord hears you. He knows your heart. And even though there has been many times where I have wanted to reach up and bring my brother back down for my mom, I know her pain has helped make me the mother that I am today.

I read this poem once a long time ago. And I think it says most of what I am trying to:

There are women that become mothers without effort, without thought, without patience or loss and though they are good mothers and love their children, I know that I will be better.
I will be better not because of genetics, or money or that I have read more books,
but because I have struggled and toiled for this child.
I have longed and waited. I have cried and prayed.
I have endured and planned over and over again.
Like most things in life, the people who truly have appreciation are those who have struggled to attain their dreams.
I will notice everything about my child.
I will take time to watch my child sleep, explore and discover. I will marvel at this miracle every day for the rest of my life. 

I will be happy when I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of my child, knowing that I can comfort, hold and feed him and that I am not waking to take another temperature, pop another pill, take another shot or cry tears of a broken dream. My dream will be crying for me.

I count myself lucky in this sense; that God has given me this insight, this special vision with which I will look upon my child that my friends will not see.
Whether I parent a child I actually give birth to or a child that God leads me to, I will not be careless with my love.
I will be a better mother for all that I have endured. I am a better wife, a better aunt, a better daughter, neighbor, friend and sister because I have known pain.
I know disillusionment as I have been betrayed by my own body, I have been tried by fire and hell many never face, yet given time, I stood tall.
I have prevailed.
I have succeeded.
I have won.
So now, when others hurt around me, I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort. I see it, mourn it, and join them in theirs.
I listen.
And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely. I have learned the immerse power of another hand holding tight to mine, of other eyes that moisten as they learn to accept the harsh truth and when life is beyond hard. I have learned a compassion that only comes with walking in those shoes.
I have learned to appreciate life.
Yes I will be a wonderful mother.