disjointed thoughts on motherhood

When I was a kid I did not think about growing up to be a mother. That will surprise anyone who knows me very well at all, but I really didn't. I didn't realize "wife" and "mother" were occupational choices, like "lawyer" or "nurse." I was always a part of my mother's work: sometimes I was the topic, in columns and poems; sometimes I was the editor, sitting at the kitchen table and rereading (again) whatever article or paper was due that afternoon; and sometimes I was the observer, doodling on bulletins in empty pews while listening to rehearsal. She was (is) a writer, musician, student, (now, a teacher), wife, and mother, but mostly she was busy, and we were all along for the ride. So I thought being a mom was sort of like having curly hair - either you had it, or you didn't. But it wasn't who you were.

Which is part of why I am not comfortable with how much I want it now. This isn't about wanting what I can't have. And it isn't about finding purpose or fulfillment in life. It isn't baby fever, and it isn't (definitely isn't) a desire to settle down. It isn't any of those things.

Most of the people I know (most, but not all) have stumbled into motherhood. Some were scared, some were thrilled. My favorite pregnancy story is from my college roommate, who said she saw the little plus line and screamed. Regardless of what they wanted, it just happened, like a car accident or someone unexpectedly paying for your dinner. Not like a college degree. More like a really good parking space and finding what you need on clearance, or like waking up in the middle of the night with a stomach virus ... you see what I mean. And even though the randomness with which God gives children to women pisses me off, I can respect it, too. Children aren't earned. They are given.

And this is another reason why I am not comfortable with how much I want this. I don't believe that children are a goal to attain. I believe they are a gift from God, on loan, really. Scripture says that the rains fall on the righteous and the unrighteous alike ... some people get to be parents no matter how horrible they are at it, and others will never be parents, no matter how good they could have been. It drives me nuts, but that is reality.

Neither my sister nor I will stumble into this, the way that our mother did, the way yours probably did, too. That ship has sailed. So ... what then? If children can't be earned, and they aren't a goal to attain, what is there to be done except wait for the gift?