Judging from the number of cellophane-clad floral bouquets being toted out of the grocery store, there's no doubt Mother's Day is upon us. My own journey to motherhood was a bumpy road to say the least. After years of trying - eight to be exact - I made a decision at my Mom's funeral that I would not spend another dime on procedures or medication when there were children all over the world without mothers. Eight months later, I cradled a 27-month old little boy from a Russian orphanage in my arms on my first Mother's Day without my Mom.
A few years later, the simultaneous joy and pain of motherhood intersected as a 19-year old mother transferred her hopes and dreams for a child into my anxious arms. Domestic adoption was a new path not without its own set of hurdles and moments of quiet desperation. Will she change her mind? Will the doorbell ring causing my heart to literally break in two? Fortunately it didn't and our family was complete.
Or so I thought.
The concept of motherhood is a complicated one. The term mothering is one of nurture, guidance, and protection. It can extend to friends and even strangers at times. You can be a "team mom" or an "office mom." Or, in my case, a 19-year old girl from Russia can steal your son's heart before weaving her way into the heart of your entire family. What began as a cordial relationship between a girl and the mother of her boyfriend evolved into one of confiding, nurturing and eventually a maternal-type love.
When I lost my Mom to cancer 20 years ago, I lost that mother-daughter bond on which I had come to depend. Watching my friends with their daughters and especially my sister and niece's relationship, I was envious of the female connection that existed. There has never been a doubt that I was meant to be the mother of boys. But I craved that maternal stronghold I hadn't experienced since my Mom passed away.
As my relationship with Dasha grew, I realized that my heart was expanding to love another child as my own. I helped with essays, cut her hair, taught her new foods to cook, held her as she cried from being homesick and took care of her when she was sick. We would play-fight when being competitive during card games or "punch-bug" challenges on road trips. She has a fiercely independent nature but yet the tender, loving side opened its heart to me as well.
Two days ago, I stood in an airport and said goodbye to our girl. The end of her exchange program had arrived and she had to return home to Siberia in eastern Russia. Tears flowed freely from all members of our family and I thought my heart would break into pieces as I watched her walk through security and out of our daily lives for now. With future plans being uncertain, it felt as though a gaping hole had opened up for all of us.
But the beauty of motherhood makes you susceptible to the stinging pain of goodbyes. In order to miss someone so much it's hard to breathe, you must first love them. So with that in mind, I'm celebrating the pain of my third child leaving by acknowledging the amount of love that grew in the seemingly short 9 months we had her with us.
My journey to motherhood may have seemed like it was one pothole after another. But the sites along the way have made every bump in the road worthwhile. I am the mother to two boys that may have been born to someone else, but I have had the blessing of raising. And as they tearfully clutched each other tight in the backseat leaving the airport after our goodbye to Dasha on Friday, I realized that they too are experiencing the agony of loving someone. It means their hearts expanded as well and it made my Mama heart proud.
So today I am grateful for the gift of motherhood in all its twisted forms. The wanting to be, the becoming, the loving and losing and the joy in knowing that our hearts are always capable to expanding to love beyond what we imagined. I miss my Mom, I miss my new daughter but I am going to soak in my boys and the knowledge that the journey and all its twists and turns has brought me to where I am today.
It was worth every mile.
