During my senior year in high school, my literature teacher had us write a letter to our future selves. We were to write a letter explaining what our life was like 5 years from graduating high school. I had completely forgotten about the letter until a few years ago, when my former literature teacher emailed me asking me for my current address because it had been 5 years and he wanted to mail my letter.
I waited by our apartment postbox every day, anxiously awaiting the letter. When it did come, I was surprised what the letter contained. At 17-years-old I had written that I wanted to be a mom and within 5 years I would have a daughter and we would be traveling through Italy together (eye roll on the Italy part).
What my 17-year-old self didn’t realize was just how difficult it is to become a mom.Or how difficult it is to get and stay pregnant. Or how for many women, Mother’s Day sucks.
When I became pregnant in October and while I counted down the days until I hit the 12-week “safe” mark, I kept thinking about this plight women have to become mothers. How heart-wrenching this process is! How lonely the road can seem. Even though I was thrilled at the possibility of becoming an official mom, with a daughter of my very own, I had a giant hole in my heart wherein resided all the pain of past Mother’s Days I spent crying on my bathroom floor and the discounted baby clothes I bought dreaming of the day I could wrap a little one in my arms.
Throughout my pregnancy, I’ve carried this pain, hoping that reality would check in and I would forget the past and move on. But then something marvelous happened.
I read an article in the April Ensign – an article that was written just for me.
Authored by the brave Linda Longhurst, “My Search for Motherhood” tells the story of a childless woman and how she embodies the very definition of the word “mother” as she cares for young children at her church and seeks out opportunities to care for little ones. This article hit a deep chord. I realized that during all my years of struggling to get pregnant – I was already a mom.
I sang with the nursery-aged children in Primary, I watched my friend’s babies (sometimes overnight!) and I hung out with 12-year-old-girls and showed them how to have a fantastic slumber party.
Then I thought about all the women in my life who were like moms to me- I wasn’t related to them by blood and whether they had their own children or not was completely unrelated-because they loved me and taught me how to be a better person.
And isn’t that what being a mom is all about? Loving and teaching?
As Mother’s Day approaches, I think about these women. One was my former French teacher and former member of my ward at church- who passed away too young. She taught me French and always offered me a hug and a new song to learn. Another important woman is a friend at work who is constantly checking to see how I am feeling and offers me a granola bar “so the baby doesn’t go hungry”. Another woman I know often brings meals to new moms despite the fact that she has no children of her own.
All of these women are mothers to me.
