The little things can stir so much inside me. I was driving home. A mom was standing at a crosswalk, waiting for her light. Her 8 year old daughter was standing next to her, talking away. Her baby was in a stroller, the sun directly in her eyes. The wheels were angled toward the busy street. I watched that baby squinting in the sun and then saw her mother release the stroller and stare down at her phone. Her daughter kept talking, her stroller inched toward the road, and she stared at her phone. My blood boiled instantly. Don’t you know what you have? Do you know how quickly it could be gone? It stirs it all up, the unfairness of it all.
Ever since I was a kid, I knew that I wanted to be a mom. I grew up with a large, loud family. I have vivid memories of my siblings saying, “I’m never having kids!” But not me. I’ve always known. I would be perfectly content as a stay at home mom. Because of this, it was difficult for me to pick a career path. I took a lot of wrong turns. I finally chose to teach. Teaching young children seemed like the best choice for someone with a mothering nature. I have been around babies since before I can remember. I have 2 younger siblings, and 7 nieces and nephews. Mommy things come naturally to me. I’ve changed diapers, given bottles, put babies to sleep, sang songs, and tended to boo-boos; and I’ve loved every moment of it. You know when you’re born to do something. I was born to be a mother.
When Lincoln was placed in my arms, my first thought was, he’s perfect. My second thought was, Why me? Of all people, how could this happen to me? I instantly felt guilty for wondering this. I would never wish it on anyone else. I have never been the “why me?” type of person. But this is so different. Being a mom is the only thing that I have always known I would be good at. I never had a single doubt. So how could this be? Do I not deserve a baby? What did I do wrong to deserve losing him? I don’t like these things to pass through my mind. I don’t like self-pity. This didn’t happen because I deserved it; it just happened. That woman on the street probably isn’t a bad mother; but there are plenty of people who get to keep their children, and then mistreat them. We live in a world where abuse and neglect exist. And I can’t think about those things for too long. I scroll passed news articles. I hide posts. I tune out conversations. This life is not fair. They got to keep their babies and I didn’t get to keep mine. It is so, incredibly unfair. I’d do anything to have him back. I am still a mother to my baby. I am fulfilling my purpose in life, but it is not the way that I imagined I would. I hope to get to experience mothering in the traditional sense; but for now, I will do everything I can to be the mother that Lincoln deserves. It’s not fair that this is how I am his mommy. But I am his, and he is mine. Nothing will ever change that.