Hormonal
It's no secret that I do not care much for Valentine's Day. I'm not even going to lie anymore and say that it's because it's a stupid holiday (even though it so totally IS). It's more because I never have (and have never had) a special fella to celebrate it with. It's depressing to be reminded that I'm such a loser that no man wants me. (Let me wallow, people.)
What I never expected was for Mother's Day to have a similiar effect one day. Never. I haven't wanted kids of my own since I was in my early 20's. Wasn't even sure back then that I truly wanted them. But certainly, Mother's Day wasn't ever a day for wallowing in self pity at my childless state. It was about Mama.
But this weekend...oy. I was weepy and sad at thethought realization that I will never be a mother.
Yeah, sure, furbabies are awesome. I so utterly love Libby as if I'd given birth to her. I'm not ashamed to admit that I love her more than I love most people. And yeah, I adore my nieces and nephew more than is probably healthy. (Disappointment and heartbreak await from them as they grow up. This I know from my own "growing away from" aunts who I used to adore like second mothers.)
I used to think I didn't care. That I didn't want kids. Didn't want to give birth or deal with 3am feedings or all the other things that come with motherhood. But this weekend, for whatever reason, it made me sad.
I was driving home Saturday morning thinking about Ethan. The little booger is 6 months old and already pulling himself up in his crib. And he's taken to just randomly kissing me. Open mouthed and slobbery baby kisses. And thinking about him always makes me smile. But then for no apparent reason, I started to cry. What the crap is wrong with me? I wondered.
Oh, the ache, when I realized the very real hurt that was festering inside my heart. I'll never have my own.
As sweet and precious as that little boy is, he'll never be mine. All the things I'll never experience as a mother leaked out from my eyes and I just...I lost it. It hit me like a ton of bricks, it was so unexpected. I never in a million years would have guessed that behind the bluster of "I love kids, but I love to send them home with their mama" might lay some deeply repressed longing to have a child of my own.
And I don't even really know that that's the entire story. It very well could be the fact that I don't even have the option of bearing children that breaks my heart the most. Because I can say I don't want kids till I'm blue in the face but the cold reality is, it doesn't matter what I want. Because it's never going to happen either way. And perhaps that's why I decided in my late 20's that I didn't want kids. Because if I didn't want kids, it wouldn't hurt so badly to be denied them.
A lot like me saying I don't want to get married keeps others from knowing my secret heartbreak--that it's not even an option. And as long as I believed that I didn't want a husband I couldn't get my heart broken when I never found love.
I was a little mopey and irritable all day Sunday because I just felt so sad with these realizations on my heart and mind. Even perhaps a little resentful when people with real children placated me by reminded me that I was mother to furbaby. Much like women with husbands/boyfriends placate me on Valentine's Day by saying being married/attached is way overrated.
*sigh*
But--be not sad for Jana. There is comfort in the fact that Mother Nature sent me a gift this morning. So all those intense feelings and random tears were more than likely just PMS.
Dreary post for a Monday. I absolutely did not intend to write about this at all. I was going to write about being attacked by a vicious dog and having to make two batches of pie filling when I screwed up the first batch. Maybe I will tomorrow. No. Scratch that. I must tell you tomorrow. Because the attack story is just too awesome not to share.
What I never expected was for Mother's Day to have a similiar effect one day. Never. I haven't wanted kids of my own since I was in my early 20's. Wasn't even sure back then that I truly wanted them. But certainly, Mother's Day wasn't ever a day for wallowing in self pity at my childless state. It was about Mama.
But this weekend...oy. I was weepy and sad at the
Yeah, sure, furbabies are awesome. I so utterly love Libby as if I'd given birth to her. I'm not ashamed to admit that I love her more than I love most people. And yeah, I adore my nieces and nephew more than is probably healthy. (Disappointment and heartbreak await from them as they grow up. This I know from my own "growing away from" aunts who I used to adore like second mothers.)
I used to think I didn't care. That I didn't want kids. Didn't want to give birth or deal with 3am feedings or all the other things that come with motherhood. But this weekend, for whatever reason, it made me sad.
I was driving home Saturday morning thinking about Ethan. The little booger is 6 months old and already pulling himself up in his crib. And he's taken to just randomly kissing me. Open mouthed and slobbery baby kisses. And thinking about him always makes me smile. But then for no apparent reason, I started to cry. What the crap is wrong with me? I wondered.
Oh, the ache, when I realized the very real hurt that was festering inside my heart. I'll never have my own.
As sweet and precious as that little boy is, he'll never be mine. All the things I'll never experience as a mother leaked out from my eyes and I just...I lost it. It hit me like a ton of bricks, it was so unexpected. I never in a million years would have guessed that behind the bluster of "I love kids, but I love to send them home with their mama" might lay some deeply repressed longing to have a child of my own.
And I don't even really know that that's the entire story. It very well could be the fact that I don't even have the option of bearing children that breaks my heart the most. Because I can say I don't want kids till I'm blue in the face but the cold reality is, it doesn't matter what I want. Because it's never going to happen either way. And perhaps that's why I decided in my late 20's that I didn't want kids. Because if I didn't want kids, it wouldn't hurt so badly to be denied them.
A lot like me saying I don't want to get married keeps others from knowing my secret heartbreak--that it's not even an option. And as long as I believed that I didn't want a husband I couldn't get my heart broken when I never found love.
I was a little mopey and irritable all day Sunday because I just felt so sad with these realizations on my heart and mind. Even perhaps a little resentful when people with real children placated me by reminded me that I was mother to furbaby. Much like women with husbands/boyfriends placate me on Valentine's Day by saying being married/attached is way overrated.
*sigh*
But--be not sad for Jana. There is comfort in the fact that Mother Nature sent me a gift this morning. So all those intense feelings and random tears were more than likely just PMS.
Dreary post for a Monday. I absolutely did not intend to write about this at all. I was going to write about being attacked by a vicious dog and having to make two batches of pie filling when I screwed up the first batch. Maybe I will tomorrow. No. Scratch that. I must tell you tomorrow. Because the attack story is just too awesome not to share.
Comments
I'm curious about your circle of acquaintances, hon...is it just work and church? If it is, you really are depriving a lot of people of the chance to meet and know you. What about hobbies, or taking a course in something...anything to go where different people are. Just a thought. You truly are a treasure and it seems to me that you're just not in the place where anyone can find you. Sorry if I'm out of line. I care about you, hon.
Aunt B
If I'm being completely honest with myself (which I try to be) the truth is, as much as I'd like to experience love and all that comes with it, any real possibility of it scares the ever lovin' crap outta me. I don't know if it's because of my inexperience or some deep rooted self-esteem issues or what. But there it is. So it's intensely difficult for me to put myself out there to be rejected. Work and church are relatively safe, although there have been a few instances where those places have put me in a position to be rejected/disappointed.
For the most part, I enjoy my solitary life. That's a big reason why most of my hobbies (reading, crafts, DIY) are all solitary hobbies. So I guess you could say that I am my own worst enemy and when I die alone and no one discovers my body for a month it'll be my own darned fault. ;-)
Oh, and thanks so much for always being so sweet. I don't think I translate as awesomely in person as I apparently do on "paper", though. lol Face to face I'm terribly shy, somewhat obnoxious and at times utterly annoying. Sometimes I'm so terrible I think my own mother doesn't like me! lol
You all get to see a part of me that I don't really show to the rest of the world. I'm never this brutally honest with the people in my face to face life because I don't trust them enough to not use it against me somehow. The few times I've dipped a toe in to test the waters, so to speak, the backlash was horrendous. So ya'll really probably do know me a heck of a lot better than the people I share DNA and air with.
Boy, long comment. Sorry 'bout that. :-D