On Becoming a Mom, Life’s Passageways, and Love

There are times when I see my son playing alone and I think “I should’ve had another baby.” It hits me hard and deep – a guilty ache flooding my entire being. There was a time, when he was two or three years old – we tried for a while to give him a sibling. Then, there was a month when I thought I might be pregnant, and I felt not joy or hope, but utter panic.

Turned out, I wasn’t pregnant but the worry of being on bedrest again with a little boy running around… we stopped trying. To say I regret that decision isn’t really fair, because it was during those months that we were first navigating the world of special needs, evaluations, hearing tests, and a path that led to him attending (and graduating from) Preschool Autism Class. Being pregnant on bed rest felt impossible back then.

I know we did what felt right and remember the exact taste of the words in my mouth “What if his sibling has more needs than he does? How would we help them both?”

Of course, parents do what we need to and we’d have been fine. With the now-knowledge of how quickly our babies become toddlers who become kids that amuse themself playing alone for a while, I realize how short those months of bedrest would’ve been. But they’d have felt like an eternity then.

Both things are true. A blip in time, and an eternity while living it. Funny, a lot like life and parenting in general, right?

Does each choice we make change who we are?

I think about the passageways I’ve walked through – the ones I’ve turned away from after entering, the ones that were more difficult climbs than I thought they’d be, the ones I regret, and the ones I’m relieved to have braved. The ones I celebrate.

On Becoming a Mom, Life’s Passageways, and Love

I’m so relieved that bedrest worked for my pregnancy. That he is here, and is gloriously himself. Would he be different if he had a sibling to fight and play with? Maybe. I’d likely be different, too. I’m glad I’m his mom. Maybe we’ll foster one day.

I wonder about the passageways my son will take and has taken. We teach him kindness, and to try new things. Flag football, swim team, a failed toddler soccer experiment, scouts – each time hoping it’ll be the activity that sparks passion in him. So far, while he enjoys most, none have become “his thing.” But we’ll keep testing and trying and showing up with and for him.

I think about my own chosen pathways.

Trying and then Not Trying for another baby.

Getting married many years ago, miscarrying, and divorce. Sometimes, I wish we’d have been able to have that baby. Not for the baby or the marriage exactly, but he died and it’d be wonderful for his parents and sister to have a kid with his joy of life and his smile. For me, too. Another baby of mine, out in the world.

Having my only baby at 40. I wouldn’t trade that for anything, but if I could wish for one thing, it’d be that my husband and I were each 10 years younger with everything else the same. But, I’ve explored that thought more than a little bit and it doesn’t work like that, even if wishes as foolish as this could be granted.

I chose to be offended when somebody mistook me for his grandma, and then chose not to be, because while I’m more wrinkled than some of his friends’ mamas, I’m his mama, and can’t imagine either of us in any other role, other than the ones of being ourselves. That we are of one another is part of those selves.

I chose a passage that took me from Colorado to Virginia, and almost 15 years later, the one that brought me back. I took my husband and son skiing, and remembered how much I love it. Nobody ended up in the emergency room.

Do I struggle with some of the passageways I’ve chosen to walk through? Of course I do. I may never not be able to wonder whether my little boy would be better off with a sibling.

Also, I suppose each passageway we walk through changes us a bit, and not always in the ways we’d imagined. There will be ones I walk through alone, ones that I watch my son walk through without me, and ones we hold hands through. Each will teach us more about ourselves and one another.

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This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post. This week’s prompt is the photo “Passageway” by Tim Wright co-hosted by the fab Mardra Sikora (mother to Marcus and the superhuman who invited us to celebrate Down Syndrome with Colin Farrell).