I have been a mother for ten years now.
That number – a third of my lifetime – seems to be so much larger, more significant than it was last year. Ten years is a long time.
I fell into motherhood the same way I’ve fallen into every other major thing in my life: accidentally. I’d never given much thought to motherhood, parenting or having crotch parasites of my very own. I don’t have younger siblings or younger cousins, and the kids I babysat weren’t ever babies. If you’d asked me back then if I’d wanted to have babies, I probably would have said a resounding, “Fuck.” and “No.”
To be unexpectedly a parent was the most shocking thing that’s happened to me. If I hadn’t gotten pregnant against the odds, I can’t say that I’m certain I’d have ever walked down that road. I can’t say that, of course, because I’ve never been an adult without having a bouncing baby (of my very own)(I am not a baby-napper) strapped into my car, tooling along with me. I cannot imagine my life without children.
I’ve said many times that without Ben, I would be nothing, and that’s the truth. Every decision I’ve made in the last ten years has been executed while thinking of the betterment of another. Would I be nothing without him? No. Of course not. But I certainly wouldn’t have gotten married, had two more crotch parasites or become Your Aunt Becky.
I do not know where I’d be without him.
It’s been an unglamorous life, that’s for sure, but one filled with laughter and heartache, joy and sorrow, and mostly, the unexpected.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Happy Mother’s Day to each of you – those of you struggling to become mothers, those missing their mothers, those whose treasures are in heaven, and those of you woken up each day to sticky fingers and poopy diapers.
Happy Mother’s Day, Pranksters.
We’re doing a carnival of Mother’s Day posts from many different perspectives on Band Back Together if you’d like to join us.