At the age of 30 I had my son; my daughter at 32. YES, Yes… I know – I’m a baby by most of your standards at the not so “tender” age of 35, and not officially a midlife mother. You see, by my family’s track record, my two older sisters were working on kids # 2 and 3 respectively by the time they were 25, so for me I thought waiting until I was 30 was waiting. Looking back now I see that I naively thought I had everything together. But, I am still racked with self doubt and the simple question of “What if” and the not so simple answers it often conjures.
For me, the questions go a little like this:
What if I had waited to have kids till I was in my 40s instead of 30s? …Waited until my career was well established and I had gathered plenty of vacation time for all of the sick days/ mommy days I would need?
What if I waited until my house was perfectly in order and not completely dismantled by remodeling and the chaos that comes with it?
What if I had waited until I was older, and my life was running like a fine-tuned machine instead of being strung out on caffeine from the severe lack of sleep my body craves? Would I appreciate motherhood more? Would it come easier? Would I look at those well put-together moms at the PTA and still feel inadequate?
Usually I can ignore those questions, and have for the past several years. That is, until lately. This year those questions have all started to sneak into my subconscious – usually before I even know they are there. For me, this year the game changed completely. Let me explain – in the past two months my son started Kindergarten and my daughter started preschool at TWO different schools; my career has taken off and is quickly becoming more demanding; and my husband of 10 yrs who was unemployed for the past three years has started a new job requiring him to spend up to 70% of his time traveling. While I’m exceedingly grateful and do feel truly blessed with all I have been given in life, I still feel completely saturated with change, and a little strung out! I remember my late 20s, when we began trying to have kids. I knew motherhood would change my life, but I don’t think I realized HOW.
As Cyma Shapiro recently wrote in her ”What if…” I completely identified with missing the “me” time. As soon as I read it I knew I had to respond. That night I went to bed with all of those nagging “what ifs’” no longer quiet in my head. I had a hard time sleeping that night and knew the following morning I needed to write. When I awoke the following morning it was storming. I woke with my little girl’s arms curled around my neck; her soft breath on my forehead. When I rolled to give her a kiss & hug I found my son’s arm around her waist, spooned up next to her. Reaching a little farther I found my husband’s arms completely encompassing us all. It was the quintessential Mommy moment. It was as if God was whispering in my ear…you are right where you are supposed to be, relax, enjoy and let me take care of the rest. And so I have…