Ah, summertime. Summertime brings us gorgeous weather, or unbearably hot weather depending on where you live, beach days, an escape from school, and wedding after wedding after wedding.

Your topic to tackle this month:

Your role as wife.

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Some housekeeping. I’m sorry that Sarah will be leaving us as a contributor. I know we’ll see her around in the comments.

I’m going to be putting out an open call for women who want to join and contribute. Leave a comment here if you are interested, and if you know anyone who might be interested let her know she can comment here and I’ll set everything up.

I’m not quite sure how to approach this topic, so I started by thinking about all the images the word “bitch” conjures up in my head, the adjectives that usually accompany it, and the other nouns with which I associate it.  I also considered the words’ meanings and many uses.  According to Wikepedia:

Bitch is a term for the female of a canine species in general. It is also frequently used as an offensive term for a malicious, spiteful, domineering, intrusive, or unpleasant person, especially a woman. This second meaning has been in use since around 1400.^[1] When used to describe a male, it may also confer the meaning of “subordinate”, especially to another male, as in prison.^{[citation needed]} Generally, this term is used to indicate that the person is acting outside the confines of their gender roles, such as when women are assertive or aggressive, or when men are passive or servile.

The first site that comes up when you google “bitch” is a feminist media organization’s website.  In describing why they chose “the B word” as their title, they state:

The writer Rebecca West, back in the day, said, “People call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat.” We’d argue that the word “bitch” is usually deployed for the same purpose. When it’s being used as an insult, “bitch” is an epithet hurled at women who speak their minds, who have opinions and don’t shy away from expressing them, and who don’t sit by and smile uncomfortably if they’re bothered or offended. If being an outspoken woman means being a bitch, we’ll take that as a compliment, thanks.

We know that not everyone’s down with the term. Believe us, we’ve heard all about it. But we stand firm in our belief that if we choose to take the word as a compliment, it loses its power to hurt us. And if we can get people thinking about what they’re saying and why when they use the word, that’s even better.

And last, but certainly not least, “bitch” describes all at once who we are when we speak up, what it is we’re too worked up over to be quiet about, and the act of making ourselves heard.

So, to break it down, the word “bitch” is used for women who are displaying qualities that are stereotypically male, or men who are acting like stereotypical women.  Just as the LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgendered) community has re-claimed the term “queer,” this new feminist movement seeks self-empowerment by embracing the term “bitch,” in attempt to take its power and spin it into a complimentary term indicating a “strong woman.”  Personally, I really like what this organization is trying to accomplish. 

There’s one woman who has worn the title of “Bitch,” which was slapped on her like a scarlet letter (ok, so her husband wore the “A”, but she wears the “B”) once she became more powerful than threatened men and women were comfortable with allowing.  Hillary Clinton comes to mind.  I don’t want to turn this into a political debate, just a discussion about gender inequality and the semantics of the B word.  But my point here is that I have heard so many people mindlessly say things like “I don’t know why I hate her.  It’s just visceral.  She’s just a BITCH.”  Totally uninformed, totally unsubstantiated, totally incapable of qualifying their reasons for their dislike.  It’s not that I think people should like her!  It’s that there are many people that cannot pinpoint WHY they don’t, except to reiterate that she is a “bitch,” and THAT is when people need to think about what they’re saying and why.  Is it because she’s strong, because subconciously that makes people uncomfortable, because she’s opinionated and vocal, because she’s insanely bright and doesn’t let anyone push her around, because she fights back and campaigns like a man, because she doesn’t bow down, or because her intellegence challenges people?  Because when men have those characteristics, it makes them leaders.

The “Beat the Bitch” campaign really infuriated me because regardless of your political views, I don’t think Hillary’s intelligence is debatable.  And that level of disrespect - reducing her to “the bitch” - is something we, as a society, could only get away with doing to a woman.  So yeah, I think if we could successfully turn the word “bitch” into something to be proud of, something synonymous with “strong woman,” we could agree that Hillary is one kick ass bitch.  But to thoughtlessly peg her as “just a bitch” discredits everything she has worked to become.  Regardless of whether or not you believe she is a good role model for females in today’s society, there is no disputing that this woman’s intellect is something to be respected.  Because if she had been born a man, no one would talk about what an “a$$hole” that domineering man is with all his brains, ambition, and initiatives.  Instead, he’d be revered as one hell of a leader.

Sorry, I just read this and realize how angry it is.  I suppose there’s some underlying anger in me when we discuss gender inequality.  And with the recent Hillary news, I just watched my shot at having health insurance walk out the door with her (yes, I’m ironically uninsured).  Not to turn this too political, but I’m proud that “the Bitch” made it as far as she did - she’d have been one hell of a president!  But hey, my new attitude is YES WE CAN!  How was that for a-political?  Best I could do guys, sorry

First of all, everyone, let me please apologize for being so completely MIA in this group for a while.  I was so excited that Melinda allowed me to be added, to be a part of a group of bloggers who have so often taught, inspired, amused and supported me over the past couple of years.  I promise to be more present again going forward!

The topic of motherhood is so relevant to me these days.  My daughter Delaney turned four months old on Mother’s Day, so there has been a lot of reflection happening.  I’ve had about five different posts in my head to write this month - some I really would like to get done, but that I just haven’t been able to find the calm and composure to tackle.  I’ve had this post in one form or another written for a while - but then things would be going so smoothly and it seemed ridiculous to post.  Then things would become more challenging again (uh, tonight) and I’m almost too scared to admit it all “out loud.”  Since this topic seems to be foremost on my mind lately, and certainly relates to the monthly topic, this what you get.  I’m already thinking about the June topic though as I think that’s something I can sure speak to as well!

Jen’s post this month truly spoke to me.  I, too, somehow expected that I was going to have it all figured out from the start, I’d be supermom because I was just. that. awesome.  No stress or frustration for me.  Sleep deprivation?  No biggie - I worked overnights not long ago for a job and that had to be worse than mommy sleep deprivation (ha - wrong, so wrong).  Of course because I waited so long and worked so hard to finally become a mom, I would have this natural, inherent ability to handle whatever was thrown my way with grace and ease.

I know, you’re all laughing now.  Rolling out of your chairs, tears streaming down your face, pure laughter.  What can I say, I love to be able to amuse others.  It’s a bit of a gift.

I think in these past four months, Delaney has almost had two moms (well, I mean, she does, her birthmom and me, so I guess I should say three moms) - the good mom and the mean, irrational mom.  I will say, the mean, irrational mom almost exclusively shows her face only in times of great sleep issues with either baby or mama.  But I don’t like that mama and I would like her to take a hike.  She gets too easily frustrated when a baby wakes up extra early or fights going to bed for hours (yeah, tonight and last night, for example) - or refuses to take a decent nap for the whole day.  I’m not sure what good the mean mama thinks it will do to get frustrated or maybe yell once in a while, but that’s what she does.  When happy mom is back, she vows never to let herself get that frustrated again, ever (yep, go ahead and laugh, I’ll pause for a moment).

I know that we are making progress, big progress.  And I do love this baby with all of my heart, I truly do.  The way she smiles at me or does silly things to make me laugh bring tears to my eyes - the good kind of tears.  I can’t believe after waiting 39 years to finally become a mom that I am graced with this beautiful baby girl.  I do believe I am a good mom, am capable of being a good mom.  I just have some work to do.  I am making progress in that regard too - when I can take a step back to appreciate how lucky I really am, to keep perspective that overall things are going well, then I can handle it pretty well.  I just wish I could do it more consistently.

On the tough days, the fears take hold.  I have dreamed most of my life of becoming a mom - I really have truly believed it is what I am meant to do with my life.  The job I work now, the house I live in, many of the other choices I made were with becoming a mom in mind.  I knew that parenting would be hard, adoptive parenting would be challenging, being a single mom would be tough in ways I couldn’t imagine, and that becoming a trans-racial family would present many new experiences both good and bad.  But my biggest fear?  To become my mother.  Yep, that simple - I did not want to turn into my mother.  Now, to explain that in full would take a lot of room and was the post I meant to get done the first month of the site, but it wasn’t turning out the way I wanted and then the clock struck April and to a new topic.  I’m still hoping to tackle it.  But it boils down to that - I did not want to be the kind of mother my mom was.

At times though, lately, I realized there is a bigger fear I never imagined worrying about.  What if I wasn’t meant to be a mother at all?  What if I am so lousy at it that I’m even worse than everything I originally feared?  That keeps creeping into my head when mean mama rears her head - what if the one thing I spent years planning, working toward and dreaming of I was never meant to do?  I think I’ve mostly worked away from that fear as things have gotten a bit better with the sleep and mean mama, but then I worry - am I going to be a fair-weather mom?  Thrilled and good at being a mom when things are easy, and mean and bad when things are rough?  Or if I think this is hard, what happens when things really get hard (ah, the fears of raising a girl through teenhood in today’s society - something I already am terrified of and spend way too much time thinking about)?  Most of the time I think I’m doing pretty well but there have been moments, way more of them than I want to admit, where I am scared that I am not a good mom.  Not the mom this baby deserves, not the mom her birthmother dreamed of for her.

Those moments are becoming fewer and farther in-between, but they are definitely still there.  I am, like many of us, one of those people who expects a lot of themselves, often more than they can reasonably keep up with, so it is simply in my nature to expect a lot and be very hard on myself for falling short.  Like Jen, I see my baby thriving, excelling even, so I hope (I do believe, but sometimes just hang onto hope) that for the most part I am that mother I hoped and expected to be.  I think I just didn’t expect to have as much doubt in myself as I do. 

I think what I’ve come up with about being a mom is that when it’s good (which is most of the time) it’s way better than I ever dreamed.  But when it’s hard, it’s harder than I was at all prepared for - and it scares me a bit because I suspect it only gets harder from here…

The Topic of the Month for everyone who wants to write for June is:

Bitch

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A couple of announcements:

Gina from Five in the Hive is stepping back from LRT. I know, I was sad too. Gina, you’ll be missed here, but I know we’ll happily see you around blogland, and around here.

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The two writers for the Free Topic this month are:

Sarah from On the Way to Baby Hay

Kelly from Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

You know what I mean…that moment when everything clicks and you just get it. “Ah-Ha,” you think to yourself, “now I know what they were talking about!”

I had mine the other day; the moment when this whole motherhood thing began to make sense. Right outside of that store with the big red bull’s eye, I finally got it! I finally got it!

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You see my transition into motherhood was somewhat ‘bumpier’ than I would care to admit. Or, perhaps it just seemed like that to me since I am the ultimate perfectionist. In any case, I found motherhood to be harder, scarier, and more exhausting that I had anticipated. Now don’t get me wrong; I loved our son the moment I laid eyes upon him! I guess that even though I *knew* things were going to take some adjustment, I just *figured* we’d be the exception…not the rule. No, no, definitely not the rule.

Yeah, ha, welcome to reality Jen…

Yes, in reality I was struggling to become the mother that I had assumed I would always be: the calm, cool, completely in control woman who effortlessly raised her children, maintained an enviable relationship with her husband, kept an immaculate home (thank goodness for cleaning ladies…), worked full-time and blogged about everything on a regular basis. Looking back, I’m not exactly certain how I devised this self-portrait of motherhood; watching too many sitcoms I suppose. Therefore, when the snot-covered, greasy-haired, absent-minded, patience-challenged mom emerged, I was horrified!

Oh my, was I scared! This wonderful, beautiful, smart little man did not deserve such a mother! He deserved a mom who felt no need to check out in front of the TV. He deserved a mom who kept him engaged and interested. He deserved a super-mom, not me! Needless to say, this awful realization did nothing to strengthen my crumbling psyche. I bet I spent a good six weeks mentally berating myself for my shortcomings. I was seriously ticked at myself for not being better at this!

That was, until that day outside of the bull’s eye store. I don’t know what happened. It was a rainy, incredibly windy day and we had ventured out only because we needed some necessity. I lifted my son out of his car seat, balancing my heavily laden diaper bag on the other shoulder, slammed the car door shut and hit the button on my automatic umbrella, all the while cursing the terrible weather. But he just laughed! He giggled and giggled all the way in to the store. With the wind whipping through our hair and stray rain drops splashing against our faces, I realized that this was the first time my son had experienced walking under an umbrella and he thought it was cool!

And something clicked for me. It just clicked. The sleepless nights. The puke-stained laundry. The bottles. The diapers. Everything. It all finally made sense. I was never going to be perfect, but it really didn’t matter…my son was happy. My son loved me. And most importantly, my son was thriving. We were doing pretty damn good as a family, and it was high time I acknowledged it!

Since that day, I’ve enjoyed a certain sense of calm. I look forward to the nighttime awakenings and the struggles at nap time. The toys strewn about the house don’t really bother me and lunchtime messes are becoming fun! I guess I’m finally getting the hang of this Mommy Gig, and I love it. I might even be up for doing it again… someone just might need to remind me that I wrote this post when that time finally comes!

I wish I had a snarky, quipy post in me, to be honest, I have been waiting to write my free post until I felt some quip-i-ness, but I just don’t have it…..

So here goes, this is what’s on my mind…..

This month set me back.  On a Friday we all learned about the Embassy’s announcement concerning Vietnam adoptions.  I spent that weekend crying, praying, talking to my husband and getting mobilized mentally, and I was ready to fight, for our kids, for adoptions that make a difference, for keeping families together.  The next Thursday, six days later, we got another bombshell that ended what was left our relationship with my parents.

Crap.  I spent a week crying, grieving so much of what I lost.  So much of what I thought I knew, both with my parents and with adoption in general.  It sucked.  And you know what got me through, besides the prayers of those who love me, was the truth that many people have survived much worse and not lost their minds.  I actually told myself daily that if surviving the Holocaust could produce Elie Wiesel, then surely I could survive losing my parents and surviving the aftermath of their decisions.  I completely realize that I am no Elie Wiesel, and that this ain’t no Holocaust.  But it helped.

There has been so much that what I am going through has made me consider.  I am struggling, as an adult to grieve the loss of my parents.  I have no idea how to do this.  No one should have to go through what I have been through.  As an adult I *should* be able to sort out my emotions, release, forgive…. all that crap….but I struggle.  My parents are not dead, and as long as they are alive, their may be hope for restoration.  But right now, what I know is: death of relationships, death of hope. The people around me have no idea what to do with me, because it is not a “real” death, because there is so much shame attached to the situation.

So I am wading through, with support and love of the small group of those around me who know what is going on and can handle it.  But many people don’t know, and can’t know, and some of those who do know are simply overwhelmed by it all, so they ignore it, they pretend they don’t know that I was crying for a week, that I no longer have a family of origin.  Those who have helped the most have helped by simply acknowledging the pain, the loss and the truth of pain.  They gave me space to cry, to heave, to be silent.  They expected nothing from me, except the truth.  They cried out to God when I could not.  These people helped. 

As I have come through the cloud this weekend, my mind has gone a lot to Khai, to grief and loss in adoption.  To pain because of adoption. And as very much I would give almost anything to have parents back, to have the relationship I thought I had with them; I am grateful to have to be honest.  I am grateful that I know how it feels to have people around me act like I should be fine simply because they have no idea what to do with all that I am dealing with.  Am I going to be like so many of the people around me?  Will I, as his mom, pat-pat him on the arm, and blubber on and make him feel guilty for missing someone he never knew?  Man, I hope not.  There are so many times when I do want to forget about his first mom.  I don’t want to have to deal with the layer of adoption.  And I do have a choice, many a-parents do choose to not go there, because it is too hard for them, and it is awkward, and let’s just be honest, our children lost their first parents, that is part of what adoption means, and no one should ever lose their parents. 

I don’t know how to do this grieving stuff, but I am learning as I go.  And I am going to go there, I am not going to stuff it down.  I am going to feel, to cry when I need to, to pull the covers over my head when I need to, and yeah, when I have good days, like the last three in a row, I am going to laugh and play play-doh, and hold my babies tight.

And as I think about walking this journey with Khai(and any other kids we adopt) I guess I am going to do the same.  I will help him with a process that we adults, at best, simply struggle with. I will go there with him, I will sit with him when he cries, I will answer ALL of his questions the best I know how, I will tell him that I am sorry that he isn’t with his first momma, even when I am overwhelmed and want to pretend like adoption doesn’t have anything to do with loss, I will make a choice to not look away, to not pretend;  on the good days(which I know will far out number the bad) I will laugh with him, kiss his boo-boos and make it ALL better, I will just be his mamma, and that will be enough. 

Madeline L’Engle said it well in her bookOther Side of the Sun: 
“It’s a peculiar thing about pain. We can help each other bear it. Not just by caring, by making it bearable because we care - though that helps…Mado did it by prayer. She took people’s pain and she bore some of it for them. I don’t understand this, but I’ve seen it happen…It wasn’t just my imagination. Theron saw it too. He saw a wounded man who should have been in agony resting quitely because Mado was bearing part of his pain.”

 

I have been debating, debating, debating in my head whether or not to write this post.  I haven’t written any posts here yet (life has been a tad busy, sorry) and I don’t want my first post to be alienating or controversial, but I’m going to do it and hope for the best.

Motherhood was very difficult for me at first.  That isn’t to say it isn’t difficult at times still, but not in the way it was.  I knew with every fiber of my being that staying at home with my children was what I wanted to do — for them.  When it actually happened, however, when I actually starting being a stay-at-home mom, I realized very painfully that it was for them and completely, totally, not for me.  I struggled with the “what if’s” and second guessed myself for years (about six of them) until I was asked to speak in church on Mother’s Day, 2004.  That was a turning point for me.

(Umm . . . for those of you who don’t like reading/hearing about God, I hope big sirens and whistles just went off in your head when you read “I was asked to speak in church”.  At this point, if you keep reading, it is your decision.) 

So I am going to share much of that talk here, not to be preachy, not to make it seem like I condemn mothers who work outside the home (because I don’t), but to share what has helped me make peace with a decision that I knew was right for me to begin with, but just had a hard time accepting in practice.  I am going to share it in case anyone else, either a regular reader or someone who just stumbles across this forum, is struggling with the same feelings I had in hopes it can help them.  I am also going to share it in hopes that people will see stay-at-home moms aren’t just air-headed women who would “do something more”  with their lives if they had the drive, or understood that they could.  Believe me, I understand.

So, without further ado, here it is (though somewhat edited for space because it was, like, a 15-20 minute talk.  I know, that was further ado.  Anyway . . . ) :

I recently ordered a pamphlet written by Sister Hinckley entitled, Is This What I Was Born to Do?.  In it she recounts the story of Esther who was encouraged to approach her husband, the king, to plead for her people.  She knew if she did this she could possibly lose her life.  Mordecai, the cousin who raised her, encouraged her with these words, found in Esther 4:14:

“Who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”

Sister Hinckley observed that when we have those moments in our life when we think, “Is this what I was born to do?” we could translate that question into Mordecai’s question, “Who knoweth whether I am come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”

As mothers, do we not ever, in frustration, wonder, “Is this what I was born to do?”  I know I have.  But it is my testimony to you that we have come to the kingdom for such a time as this.  As mundane as motherhood may sometimes seem, especially for the stay-at-home mom, it is exactly what we are here for.  I bear you my testimony that I know Heavenly Father is aware of you.  The children you have are your children because that is part of his plan, not just because their number came up and it was their turn to come down to earth.  I know this because shortly after my husband and I were engaged, but before we were married, Heavenly Father let me know very specifically that I would have three daughters – three daughters who, along with many other children, wanted desperately to be with their mothers.  In those difficult moments of motherhood, I try to remember this, that these are my children for a reason.  I may not know the reasons, but Heavenly father does and so I have to have faith that he will help me with whatever the challenges are, because nobody else can do my job.  Likewise, mothers, nobody else can do your job.

President Hinckley has said, “I remind mothers everywhere of the sanctity of your calling.  No other can adequately take your place.  No responsibility is greater, no obligation more binding than that you rear in love and peace and integrity those whom you have brought into the world” (Pres. Hinckley, Bring Up a Child in the Way he Should Go, Ensign, Nov. 1993).

No other can adequately take your place – those are the words of a prophet.

I believe there is so much in the world that can distract us from the sanctity of our callings as mother.  Not only can these things distract us, they are designed to do just that.  In the past few decades so many doors have been opened to us as women.  We have more choices than ever before regarding our educations and our professional opportunities.  The availability of these choices, I believe, is inherently good.  After all, our Heavenly Father is all about giving us the ability to choose.  However, somewhere along the way, with all the cheering and hurrahing over our new choices, many women seem to have forgotten that the old choice of being a full-time mother and homemaker is still an option.  Don’t misunderstand what I am saying.  For some women staying at home is not an option and the brethren have recognized and continue to recognize this with love and understanding.  I temporarily returned to work when my oldest was about 5 months old.  Sometimes it is necessary.

One of the unfortunate side effects of so many women working outside the home is that those who stay at home often compare themselves to their professional counterparts and feel that they don’t measure up.  The stay-at-home mom with a degree wonders if she isn’t wasting a hard-earned education.  The stay-at-home mom who never finished her degree because children came along wonders if she hasn’t missed out on a great opportunity.  As we watch other women climb the corporate ladder or increase their education we wonder if we couldn’t have done the same, and if we wouldn’t be more interesting people for having done so.  Of course, allowing ourselves to become mired in the “what if’s” distracts from our task at hand of rearing our children in truth and righteousness.

I occasionally hear from an old college roommate of mine.  The last time we got a Christmas card she was finishing up her Ph.d. and learning some obscure African dialect, I believe.  Her letter was full of all the interesting things she had been learning and doing and I began feeling like an utter failure. 

Well, I cannot speak an obscure African dialect.  I don’t even remember most of the French I learned in college.  I don’t have a Ph.d.  I don’t even have a master’s degree.  I haven’t been published in about 4 years now, and I never was published in any highly respected publication.  Shortly after my first daughter was born I was offered the job of being the editor-in-chief of one of the area’s largest semi-weekly newspapers.  I turned down that job, but am reminded of the opportunity every time I open up my daily paper and see the smiling face of one of the columnists who worked her way up to her current job, in part, by being the editor of the paper I turned down.  But when I focus on these things, my job as a mother becomes more frustrating, and motherhood is frustrating enough without adding resentment for the unfulfilled “what if’s.”

President Joseph F. Smith said, “After all, to do well those things which God ordained to be the common lot of all man-kind, is the truest greatness.  To be a successful father or a successful mother is greater than to be a successful general or a successful statesman.  One is of universal and eternal greatness, the other is ephemeral” (Pres. Joseph F. Smith, Gospel Doctrine, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1939).

When I quit working after we started our family there were those who asked me if this is what I really wanted to do and, if so, why?  I always said that when my children are grown, if they turn out well I don’t want to share the credit with the daycare; and if they turn out not-so-well, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering, “What if I’d been home for them?  Would that have made all the difference?”

President Hinckley has said, “You have nothing in this world more precious than your children.  When you grow old, when your hair turns white and your body grows weary, when you are prone to sit in a rocker and meditate on the things of your life, nothing will be so important as the question of how your children have turned out.  It will not be the money you have made.  It will not be the cars you have owned.  It will not be the large house in which you live.  The searing question that will cross your mind again and again will be, How well have my children done?  If the answer is that they have done very well, then your happiness will be complete.  If they have done less than well, then no other satisfaction can compensate for your loss” (Pres. Hinckley, Your Greatest Challenge, Mother, Ensign, 2000).

I hope with constant vigilance we will pray for the strength to ignore the distracting “what if’s” and the wisdom and insight to understand that we are women of destiny.

This month I will experience my first Mother’s Day, the first one where my children are on this planet, I may not be their offical mother yet, but I know who they are. I have memorized pictures, talked to doctors (more than I care to admit), and loved them from afar. I may not be the mother who is currently raising them but I am their mother, mamma, mommy, mom, mama… To be honest I will be/am their third mother. Their first mother loved them enough to say they need a better life than she could provide (and yes I do KNOW that), their second mother loved them from the day they were released from the hospital - she loved them enough to say I will take both of them raise them as my own and when the time comes release them to their third mother. My fear as a mother is that I could not love them more than they have already been loved - that my love will never equal what love they have already been given in their short life. For this reason, I find myself defending my decision to register for/purchase the best car seats, strollers and cribs and while the best does not always mean the most expensive it can mean that the item costs more than usual. I find myself over researching a possible medical diagnosis - one that until I have my precious baby girl in my arms I will not know the severity. I find myself falling in love with pictures I know are outdated but that is ok, I love them anyway. I find myself crying in the wierdest places, public places because I am so happy that I finally get to live the dream I have had for three years or what seems like forever. I am not sure it is possible to cry so many happy tears in one day - but I do. I cried when the home study update was done, cried again when I purchased the first cards that said “To Grandma,” cried again when I started to try to register and didn’t have a clue what is going on. If being a mother means I cry more and laugh more and have an obsessive need to talk about my children then count me in, if being a mother means constant concerns about safety once again count me in, if being a mother is all the good and the bad rolled up in one thing count me in. I cannot wait to experience the smiles, the laughter, the times to play games, the firsts and the lasts, toddlerhood to teenage angst. I want to be a mother - I need to be a mother. I have waited three very long years to hear the words mommy and will wait years longer if I have to - I am ready to hear from my child “I hate you” - I see it as a rite of passage, one that I hope does not kill me inside as much as I think it will. I have been through hell and back to become a mother, each year begging God to please make it the last year I am not a mother, each year allowing myself to become more and more angry with this God who is supposed to grant all prayers while well meaning people share the story of Sarah and Abraham with me and I want to scream at them that I am NOT Sarah but instead smile and say thank you . Now I look back and see how that same God was preparing me for what I am about to experience, how to lean on Him and answer those prayers I earlier swore He never heard in a way I never expected and bigger than even I could have imagined. Wow, this post is getting very emotional, but right now I feel a bit entitled. I know almost everyone else on this Roundtable has at least one child home with them, is already a mother and has been in some way shape or form where I am right now and can get it - please remember when you were where I am, when you were expecting your first child or that crazy time between referral and travel - that is where I am, and I am overly emotional. So I know in my heart I am officially a MOM and motherhood suits me well even if it took me 33 years (my whole life)to realize this is exactly what I was meant to do! So while I will leave the rest of this month to all of you experienced mothers - I will start this month with motherhood hopes and expectations

I thought I’d prime the writer’s pump for this month’s topic with my favorite Motherhood video of all time. If you’ve seen it before, I know you’re ready to see it again and if you’ve never seen it, it’s time you do!

I hope you ladies have a fun go at this month’s topic.  I thought it would be appropriate to dedicate this month to:

Motherhood

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Our two Free Topic writers that we will be enjoying posts from for May are:

Jena:  Two Different Loves

Stacy:  The Delightful Delaney