When I was 21 years old, I found out I was pregnant with my first son. I honestly did not know what would become of my life. All I had ever cared about was myself.
I remember being pregnant and pretending I knew what my life had in store. The night before we went to the hospital to have Brett, I sat in my living room and cried. I was unsure of what life would look like when we brought this child into the world. But we did it, and we did it well.
I remember being pregnant with Tanner a few years later. We were heading for the sonogram on September 11th, 2001 in between when the first and second planes hit the Twin Towers. I was terrified to bring a second child into a world that was so uncertain at the time. I had no idea how I would raise them safely and how I could possibly love this baby as much as I loved the first. But I did, and I loved them both with all of my heart.
I remember finding out that I was pregnant with Brady. It was the surprise of a lifetime and I was almost certain he was a girl. He was not. I remember being so upset because our kitchen table only had four chairs. That was my breaking point. We couldn't possibly have another baby because he wouldn't have a chair at the table. As it turns out, he did have a chair at our table and our lives have been complete since the day he was born.
I've spent the last twenty-six years being a mom. I fed and changed them. I bathed them and read them stories. I prayed with them for all the people we loved in the world. I helped them with homework and washed their baseball pants. I made sure they were full after every meal. I gave them medicine and took them to the doctor when they were sick. I packed lunches and attended field trips. I planned birthday parties and tried to create memorable holiday traditions. I helped them through tough days at school and heartbreaks. I took them shopping to pick out clothes for the dance. I talked to them about how to respect women and be kind to people whether they deserve it or not.
I made sure they were fed, rested, and loved. When they needed advice, I gave it in the best way I knew how. When they needed silent support, I sat quietly beside them. I've held their hands on car rides and hugged them in tears when I left them or they left me for college. I've helped them box up their things to move out and laid on the floor of their empty rooms until I couldn't cry another tear.
I do not know what life looks like after being a mom for so many years. What I do know is that it is a pain that I cannot explain, coupled with a joy that fills my heart to see them grown and thriving. They don't need me in the same capacity that they used to. They can pray, eat, sleep, and get through hard days on their own.
No one told us about this part of motherhood. In all the moments I wished for quiet, I never realized how hard the silence would be to hear.
When their names come up on my phone, my heart skips a beat. I love to hear their voices. I love to see their faces. I love the lives they have made and are making for themselves. They are grown and as much as I love that for them, I'm sad for me. I am trying every day to learn how to be a little selfish again. To do things for me. To worry about my well being. It's an odd feeling after putting myself last for so long. I love this time getting to know Steve again. It's almost like we are dating for the first time in 26 years. I'm not sad about that at all. We went from 2, to 5, to 10! But most nights, it is just us.
I say all of this because I know life has so much to offer in the direction I'm heading, but I cannot help but look back and miss the moments I often wished away.
Is my life over? Absolutely not. It just looks different. We now have much larger Sunday dinners and quiet Tuesday evenings. I've gained three amazing young women and my grandchildren give me life. I just wish we knew as all the hard was happening, that someday we'd miss being needed so much.
How lucky are we to have something that makes saying goodbye to parenting so hard?
To Motherhood.
