Not the Momma..... Part II: The Perfect Space

I feel like my last post could use some clarification.  What I intended to be about the value of those that do not parent; may have been communicated as a statement of feared inability.  That was not what I really intended. I think I know which sentence may have done it..... the one referring to "shortcomings;" and I guess I broke my #1 rule by connecting struggle with failure.  If I could; I'd like to take that back.  I recognize that given time and adjustments I could succeed in raising a child. However, I may have stumbled upon the realization that motherhood and parenting may not be my best case scenario.

This experience gave me a new perspective on what life would be like if things were different.  I saw the pieces of myself I would have to set aside and that didn't necessarily settle well.  I guess I am particularly attached to those pieces. We all have a "perfect space"  and most of us spend our lives seeking it. 

Life is completely different without kids and this was a peek into exactly  what changes when children come along. Being responsible for a little human requires letting go of parts of myself that I may not WANT to sacrifice. Even if I could.

A lot of people truly enjoy parenting. They crave it and they delight in it.  I may not be one of those people.  That's an important realization. One that flips the perspective 360 degrees.  Don't get me wrong; I totally enjoyed the time with my niece and I look forward to doing it again in the future.  I am not an ogre who can't stand children.  

Did I over analyze it? Maybe. In my defense some things need to be observed and evaluated. I would rather scrutinize something than neglect to see the lesson. This definitely taught me some things about myself that I really needed to see. 

 Motherhood could lead to happiness but it also poses a very real risk of leading to misery.

As I write that sentence; I cringe.  It sounds a little harsh right? What kind of woman  would begrudge motherhood?  Thinking that just proves I am still.. even if just a little...stuck in the cycle. Still believing that I need to fit the mold.

All the more reason to repeat my previous statement.

I am not a mother, I am not sorry; and you shouldn't be either.

Though, it is a valid point that should be considered. The decision to reproduce carries with it a great deal of risk. The baby could be born with birth defects. The mother could get sick carrying or delivering the child. You could give up your whole self; putting all you have into the goal of raising a productive and respectful citizen; just to see them grow up to become the opposite.  I wonder how the mothers of criminals must feel when they realize what their children are capable of and it's probably safe to bet that most never intended for their children to develop in such a way.

Maybe I wasn't given the choice because I could have made the wrong one. When I think back to when I was younger; (when instinct still over-ruled any of society's conditioning) I remember playing "house" along with the other kids but I liked "banker" and playing outside way more.  I don't remember daydreaming about becoming a mother or getting excited about how many children I would have one day like some women do.  At the same time, I did expect it as the natural progression of things. I took it for granted.  Like so many times in life ... you don't appreciate a choice until it is not yours to make. 

That being said; what if this isn't a case of fertility being taken; but that infertility is given? A free pass. A "get out of parenthood free" card. I know, it's rather easy for me to sit here and proclaim that I don't want children when I don't actually have the choice to make but I'd rather see it for the blessing it can be than a loss I need to defend.

 

Things are different now. Some might call it changing but it feels more like becoming.  Discovering a part of the person I have always been, but didn't know was missing. And it is starting to settle in. I am living this moment IN my best possible circumstance.  There are a lot of things that I could do; grow a mustache, own a parakeet or become a nun for example.  These things may not actually lead me to my "perfect space."  The will to do something does not equate to it's necessity. 

Parents are blessed with children; and the child-free are blessed in their own way. We should take pride in this just the same. This is our reality; and we shouldn't feel shameful or guilty for loving our lives just as much as a person who chooses to become a mother or father. 

Each path is different. Both contain their own bumps along the way and they also possess unique beauty. The way I see it; you can either wish away your journey or you can soak up the sun in your own experience; in this very moment, just the way you are.  

A Bullet and A Target

How can it be possible to feel both gratitude and loss all at once? Is it reasonable to admit that you feel the freedom left by an absence but you would trade in that freedom happily any day? Or is this a cop-out because it was never your choice to begin with?

Why don't we move forward another way like most of the others? Why don't we pursue adoption? Why won't I sacrifice more in order to make this a reality?

Maybe it's the little voice. I just have not let go of the glimmer of hope that one of these days this is going to happen for us. If it does, I swear I am going to buy the drug store out of pregnancy tests. I will lock myself in the bathroom and take one after the other just to watch that second line appear again and again!

Maybe it's the stubborn, rebellious inner teenager that says' "NO! You can't make me!"

If I thought I felt degraded at the doctor’s office, I had a reality check coming to me when we started to navigate the waters of the foster care system. The task at hand this time was to convince strangers that ours would be a wonderful environment for a child.

We asked our friends to take time out of their days to meet with case workers to attest to the stability of our character. There were background checks, finger prints, 12 weeks of classes; 4 hours, one night each week. We learned about all of the reasons people abuse their children. We were told it was important to have compassion for the birth families. Of course we were being put under a microscope. We ARE being entrusted with someone's children after all. Yes, that someone may have starved and beaten their child scarring them emotionally and physically for the rest of their lives yet, they still deserve respect and compassion.   

I remember sitting in those classes and feeling my blood boil. Week after week we heard examples and cases of abuse and were coached to believe it is best to subject a child to more of the same as the birth parent is allowed to re-enter their lives again and again to see if they can pass the test.

This is probably the biggest reason I am not cut out to be a foster-mother. In my mind; THEY ALREADY FAILED. I don't agree that a birth parent should be given an endless number of chances to get their shit together when a child's LIFE is at stake. I know it hurts a child to be separated from their birth family, even an abusive one; but I don't buy into the theory that the perpetrator should be treated as a victim. I will not sympathize with people who abuse their children. I don't believe their circumstance excuses their behavior.

That may make me sound cold but I am so tired of our modern day mind set. Accountability seems to have been lost and replaced with entitlement. Maybe if more parents feared REAL loss fewer kids would be abused. If we raise the stakes; can we raise the standard?

We sat down with a case worker to complete our "home study." We hashed out our entire life stories; the good, the bad and the ugly. To me this felt like begging someone to grant me something that so many took for granted and that so many abused. Once again, I found myself burning up with resentment. I resented every single second of it.

As a disclaimer, I must add that I do understand why the system is in place. I just don't feel it's effective. While my home was inspected for general safety & condition no one had any concern with our outbuildings. Wasn't there a case a few years back where foster parents were keeping kids in cages in the garage? And this isn't even on their two page itemized check list? Thanks to this process we now have a smoke detector installed in our home every 300 sq. ft. or so. I am not exaggerating. When I burn toast, the whole mountain knows it.

Our wood stove and small pond were both items we were lectured about. While our garage could have looked like a scene from a horror film and they'd never know. They didn't even care.

The system... I just couldn't work with it. I wish I had it in me to grovel happily for the chance to give a child in need a safe and loving home. I wanted to jump through their hoops and pass the exam. I know all the reasons why I SHOULD feel compassion toward drug addicts who abuse their children repeatedly. But, I don't feel it and I never will.

We completed the process of being certified to foster children. After getting through all of that we were still excited at the possibility of providing a safe home to a child in need. It just turned into another dead end. I see these experiences we had as a sign. We were putting our whole selves into the process and the only thing we were getting back was grief. Every interaction turned into its own little disaster.

Was this the weak way out? Did I "give up?" Some may say that. It felt more like giving in. I cried "uncle" because I could see this system was too big, too much for lil' ol' me to create any positive change. I see each battle lost as a sign that I am not in fact on the right path.

The same part of me that still has hope for "someday" is even a little thankful that "someday" hasn't arrived just yet. Kind of like how I don't want Christmas to come because then it will be over. It's a missing piece; a mystery left yet to be discovered. Even after 12 years of failure I can't stop thinking that my day might still be coming.

Listen to me... I just can't help it. I will never stop putting myself between the bullet and the target.