Letting Go versus Giving Up

This lifetime I’m not a mom.

I always thought I would be.  I thought I’d have a daughter and I would give her all the love and confidence and joy that I had within me.

I took care of all my stuffed animals with love and mother-like pride.  Barbie, Skipper and Ken were always put away neatly in their little comfortable nooks and crannies.

I always knew deep in my bones that one day someone would call me mom.

And this weekend something shifted.  Something in my heart changed shape and a deep knowingness opened up.

This weekend I realized with immense sadness that won’t be happening. And the sadness wasn’t so much that I couldn’t be a mom, as it was that it’s the choice I’m making because I don’t think it’s part of my dream anymore.

I think I’ve known this was coming.  I think in my soul I know I’ve had beautiful children in many lifetimes before.  That this lifetime was about my spiritual growth.

But something inside me has shifted.  And I realize that I have come to like the idea of alone time.  Of sleeping in.  Of my life being on my time.  I love my freedom.

And that is so very sad.  Just recognizing this.

There was a time in my life when I didn’t have a partner and I thought I would have to give up my dream.  That I either had to go turkey baster style or just throw in the cards.  And that terrified me.  And there was a hopelessness about it.

But then I met M and we decided we would adopt.  And I have been holding space for that.  But I was sitting at dinner Friday and tears just started to stream down my face and they haven’t really stopped yet because something entirely different happened.

I could feel me letting go of my dream.

I could feel this idea that maybe this lifetime isn’t about having my own kids, but enjoying other people’s.  That there weren’t going to be any spelling bees or soccer games or kids pizza and slumber parties.  No roller skating.  No buying cute dresses and doing her hair and talking about sex and menstruation and love and buddha and nature and stillness.  No baby yoga and baby legs and first words and steps and the delicate snoring and mirthful laughter and impromptu ice cream raids and ballet lessons and trips to the zoo and photos everywhere we go.  No English papers and history assignments and math tutors and first boyfriends or girlfriends and vacations and learning to swim and connection and snuggling and birthday parties and learning to ride a bike.  No playing in the snow and learning to ski and speaking foreign languages and nurturing everything that grows in her.  Making her know deep in her bones how amazingly unique and wonderful she is.

And where do I put all that?  All these years of making space for this being who I would nurture and love?  How do I make my heart and ears stop craving hearing her calling me from across the room?

And here it is.  Mother’s Day.  And Facebook is so beautiful yet it’s like walking the gauntlet.  And tears threaten to fall at the slightest reunion of Mother and Daughter caught on film, the sun highlighting the similarities in their smiles.

And it’s hard not to feel less than.  Less than complete.

My mom told me today that if she was of this generation and had a choice as to weather to have kids or not, she may not have.  She just didn’t have a choice.  And she told me I didn’t need to have kids, and maybe I am here this time to work on myself.  And maybe it’s selfish to have kids when you can’t afford them, or don’t have the time to love them…it’s not selfish to make the choice not to.

So I send all my love out to the energy of my daughter who will never be and pray she forgives me for not pulling her in this lifetime.  And I hope and pray I’m making the right decision.  And I will breathe through this like I breathe through everything and I’m sure slowly the sadness will be eclipsed with a new project for myself or a new healing technique for those I touch.

And even owning this on the blog makes me feel more human, more connected to the thoughts and feelings because I’m sure I’m not alone in this conundrum.  Half of my girlfriends don’t have kids and have chosen not to.  One of my friends mentioned it makes us “interesting” because we have the time to develop ourselves.

And I don’t know how this will end…but I did make a rhubarb strawberry crisp with fresh rhubarb from my yard…so I bet that’s a great place to start.

Happy Mother’s Day to everyone who has ever held compassionate space for another and allowed them the freedom to grow and change and become who they are.  We definitely need and appreciate all you have to offer the world!

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie

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