This last Thursday the 24th of May was my Birthday. To celebrate I travelled home to Utah to visit with family. My Mother, Grandfather, and I all have birthdays just a day apart! It also, coincidentally, happened to be my ten year high school reunion and the weekend of the Scandinavian Festival. One of the best weekends of the year to be home - next to the week of the County Fair that is.
After hours travelling to see various family members, spending part of my Birthday in a prison at a drug rehab program graduation ceremony (a story for another time), visiting and catching up with old childhood friends, and walking around the festival with my adorable niece and nephew, I started thinking*.....
(*Yes, THINKING. Do not read into the following statement any lamenting, whining, regretting, or sorrowing. Just pure and simple thinking.)
With so much memory, history, and family surrounding me, it was interesting to look back and note how different my personal life is from what I thought it would be ten, five, or even just one year ago. I'm in no hurry to rush my life, nor do I have the fatalistic view of life, love and adventure only being for the very young... While at 28 I am still relatively young, with a medical condition that decreases fertility and the chances of conceiving with each passing year, one does tend to notice the continual advancement of the proverbial maternal clock. I sometimes find myself wondering - Is motherhood in the cards for me?
Many things in life pertaining to age are relative (I mean, I believe age itself is relative), but there are a few things that are simple facts of biology and time is not their friend. Advanced fertility treatments are not for me, and while adoption always has been and will be an option, it's something I'd rather tag-team with a supportive, excited, and willing eternal partner - a must have step for me before beginning to pursue the role of motherhood.
So this Birthday I began to think, or ponder if you so prefer, on the very real possibility that the role of "Mother" might not be mine in this life, and wonder... Am I okay with that? Will I consider my life as fulfilling without adding that to my mortal list of accomplishments? In reflecting on the last 28 years of my life, and after doing a little math, I came to this conclusion:
Although I have not obtained the official title of Mother, I have...
Changed 10,000+ diapers.
Helped to brush 200+ sets of teeth.
Sewn six Halloween costumes.
Built innumerable blanket forts.
Stomped through many sand castles.
Taught kids how to read, swim, and ride bikes.
Baked dozens of cookies.
Performed thousands of nap, bedtime, and bath time routines.
Kissed 2000+ scrapes and bruises.
Tackled the role of Tooth Fairy.
Calmed fevers and nightmares.
Folded baby laundry.
Supervised hundreds of hours of homework.
Included two imaginary friends.
Instigated precious moments of wonder.
Traipsed weekly to four different libraries.
Had countless tickle fights.
Broken up fights.
Continuously reinforced sharing.
Pushed strollers to the point of exhaustion.
Taken field trips.
Brought treats to soccer practice.
Watched dance recitals.
Assisted with twelve vacations.
Kept lots of secrets and pretended not to overhear others.
Taught about dinosaurs, space ships, colors, numbers, shapes, and sounds.
Stopped bleeding.
Soothed crying.
Been chewed on, drooled on, puked on, and diaper-change-sprayed on.
Sung hundreds of lullaby's.
Intentionally lost many games and races.
Faced terrible tantrums.
Blown infinite bubbles.
Worn homemade paper birthday hats.
Hung misspelled handmade cards and letters on my fridge.
Played peek-a-boo and hide and seek.
Brought on limitless smiles.
Between Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Ghana, the hospitals I've worked at, and the schools I've volunteered for, several thousand children don't remember my name but they do have some memory of me as a loving caregiver.
My name has significant meaning to at least 128+ specific children in this world. They know me and love me.
And the list only continues to grow as the years come and go.
So, the answer is - Yes, I have decided I will be okay. And happy. I may or may not ever be called Mother (although it has accidentally happened in moments of childish excitement) but I wouldn't trade the title of "Janna" - or Jammy, Jamma, Nanna, Nanny, etc - for anything. No regrets. Lots of fulfillment. Mother will only be the wonderful icing on top of an already amazing cake.
(There are thousands of photos I could put up here, including many precious ones from years gone by that are not available for instant upload on my computer, but here are a few I had on hand.)
