How I Became a Mother
God’s work isn’t done by God, it’s done by people. So says ani difranco. Ok, she’s not exactly the Latter-day Saint poster girl–who cares? She pegged that one directly on the schnozzle.
As I’ve previously opined on this site, I arrived on this planet with a gale-force maternal drive. My photo album sports snapshots of a 3 year-old Janet toting babies around with great proficiency (the sanity of letting me tote them, however, remains open to question). I vividly recall spotting a wooden cradle and baby doll during my first few moments of kindergarden playtime and staking out the playhouse as mine, mine, mine. Childhood journals list baby names (3 boys, 3 girls, thank you–and possibly a dog). An old boyfriend reminded me that when we were in college I used to walk up to perfect strangers in the mall and ask to hold their crying babies; he said it was one of my most aggravating and most endearing practices. I nannied twin infants when I was 14 and started wrastling cloth diapers around wriggly little bundles even before embarking on my YW trail of babysitting glory. I attempted, briefly, to minor in child development at BYU (it bored me; I fled back to the easy refuge of JKHP esoterica). I. Love. Babies.
So of course I cannot have them.
But I do have one. Currently he resides in a sling around my shoulders, snoring happily. He is my chubby and dimpled miracle, fleshy proof that the grace of God often rests on the tenuous-yet-startling grace of human choice.
DH and I began our marriage with a free pass regarding pregnancy: I’d just undergone major spinal surgery and my surgeon informed me that adding any extra weight to my frame would complicate recovery. The suggested 2-year wait struck me as the perfect amount of time for us to bond as a couple and then become a trio. The two years zipped by faster than the Concord, and soon I began lobbying DH for a “flush the pills down the commode” date night. No dice. Several more years of health problems–from both of us–circumvented my tidy plan and then, on the eve of my PhD written exams, we decided To Try. “We’re trying!” Magic words. Happy words. Words which caused ward members to speculate on my cracker consumption during Relief Society. Surely I’d be knocked up before the written exams received marks and I moved onto orals.
Six years and a whole lot of tears and pee sticks later, a reproductive endocrinologist finally pinpointed the issues which will, in all liklihood, prevent us from ever having a biological child. It sounds tragic. I suppose it is; certainly I find repugnant the practice of dismissing the integrity and severity of past pain in light of current happiness. But even as our bodies aged and 6 little embryos failed to become people, a Dickensian series of events moved us towards parenthood. And the characters in our own little Dickens novel aren’t prophets praying on our behalf, gifted seers with clear visions of our future blessings or whatnot. They are people as mired in the kerfuffle of living as were we, yet sensitive enough to seemingly nonsensical ephemeral impressions to bring our baby home: Our birthmom discovered her pregnancy while disentangling herself from an abusive marriage and raising two older boys, yet she dreamt about us. The woman who gave her our information? A drug addict busy with the hard work of her own recovery, who nonetheless felt impressed to chase after a woman she’d met only once to pass along a “birthparents letter” and introduce her to a social worker who came to rehab only that one night. And who knew a lawyer. Whose daughter-in-law, my good friend, has been convinced her MIL would find me a baby years before I even knew I wouldn’t be able to conceive one. Add to this my clear impression regarding the purchase of a house smack dab between two other adoptive families, in the stewardship boundaries of a bishop who adopted his children, and ’round the corner from a woman who became my new best friend before I’d unpacked a single box and who is, along with her husband, an adoption attorney. I’m not a “pray what color shoes to wear” sort of Mormon, but it’s hard to dismiss the myriad ways a loving Father in Heaven enabled the fulfillment of my maternal wishes.
Still, all that wishing, in the end, relied on the choices other people made to listen to the Spirit–and with the exception of our birthmom, to inconvenience themselves over what at the time appeared to make little sense. My husband and I cannot draw the tidy little equation where our family planning consists of him and me added to divine counsel equaling a baby. Vague notions, whispers, late-night pregnancy dreams, idle thoughts of goodwill easy to dismiss–these are the stuff of my miracle. My fleshy boy, made mine by ephemera. But not really, because all that ephemera would’ve remained inert had the recipients not chosen to pause, listen, trust God and their own hearts, and act: God’s work isn’t done by God, it’s done by people. All those people, busy with their own triumphs and tragedies yet willing to do God’s work. Which, at the time, may not have looked like anything Godly at all. And I have a son. Thank God.
Of course, a baby’s arrival only begins my journey into motherhood, and I’m busily figuring out all manner of things (such as the difficulty of writing a dissertation–or heck, finding time to shower–with a colicky baby). Numerous priesthood blessings have indicated the ironic notion that for me, motherhood is and will be a choice I am offered rather than a mandatory obligation. Of course, having made that choice I now have the obligation. Sometimes the obligation overwhelms even in my giddiness (I have a baby! a baby! a baby! Wheee!) and I wonder what a crazy choice this is, to choose accountability for a completely dependent little person who I could mess up in all fashion of tabloidy craziness. Motherhood is hard. Really, really hard. There’s dozens of posts buried in the subtext here–how the long gap between desire and fulfillment taught me to circumvent the temptation to define myself solely in terms of maternity, a lesson I needed to learn in order to hear the other stuff God wants me to do; how couples learn not to believe life should work out as planned, how desolation breeds joy. But right now I’m still caught in my “Streetcar Named Desire” moment, for we have relied upon the kindness of strangers who are not strangers anymore. That tidy little equation after which I so lusted would’ve excluded not just my son, but the people who brought him to us. When she said goodbye to Muffin, our birthmom fell weeping into my arms. Before he left the hospital the social worker who helped us held the baby and told me about her own adopted daughter. His birth grandma rocked him and held me close as her tears fell into my hair. They are my family, too. I love them. They are my grace. Flawed as I am, as myopic and ensnared by mortal limitations.
How baffling that God entrusts us to each others’ care–and how empowering. His trust engenders our trust in each other and in ourselves. It makes us family.
Janet, you are one of my favorite people. Thank you for your post. Your thoughts are lovely. You have always had the soul of a mother. I am so happy for you that you are finally able to spread your wings.
Comment by JA Benson — August 21, 2007 @ 3:39 pm
This is beautifully written. What a beatiful experience. What love. Thank you for sharing this.
Comment by Nutty — August 21, 2007 @ 3:48 pm
What a cool story!
Comment by berrykat — August 21, 2007 @ 4:06 pm
Thank you for writting your beautiful story. I am loving all these mothering stories.
Comment by moddy — August 21, 2007 @ 4:28 pm
A wrenching and beautiful post, Janet.
Comment by Proud Daughter of Eve — August 21, 2007 @ 4:30 pm
Oh Janet. I love your story.
Comment by Nicole — August 21, 2007 @ 4:52 pm
That was beautiful, Janet! What an abundance of “tender mercies” testifying that the Lord knows you personally and understands your individual needs. What a wonderful reminder that we can truly be instruments in the hand of God to bring happiness and peace to others.
Comment by patti — August 21, 2007 @ 5:12 pm
This was beautiful. Thank you for sharing.
Of course, having made that choice I now have the obligation.
And yet, motherhood is still a choice every day, even every hour, at least it is for me. And not always the easiest or most convenient choice.
Comment by m&m — August 21, 2007 @ 5:15 pm
I hoped you would share your story for this series. Thank you.
Comment by SilverRain — August 21, 2007 @ 5:34 pm
[…] not to have kids because hers are hard work (see previous post), that is how inspiring I find this post on Feminnist Mormon Housewives. I’ve been enjoying the whole series they’re running on […]
Pingback by elizasmom.com » As if in repsonse… — August 21, 2007 @ 7:09 pm
has janet ever failed to write beautifully? i don’t think two letters have ever left her keyboard or pen that weren’t made more beautiful from coming from her. and muffin is perfect. he’s the perfect little addition to your already wonderful lives. tabloids would only be improved by writing about such a person as any child of janet’s is bound to become.
thanks from me for sharing again! ♥
Comment by Blue — August 21, 2007 @ 7:26 pm
Janet! You made me get all weepy!
Comment by ss — August 21, 2007 @ 8:17 pm
Wonderful post, Janet. Thanks.
Comment by Eve — August 21, 2007 @ 8:19 pm
Thanks for the beautiful post. May I ask how recently you adopted? I’m just wondering if this is the last few months, or maybe further back. It’s nice to hear such a miraculous story.
Comment by jessawhy — August 21, 2007 @ 8:36 pm
You are all extremely kind. Thank you.
Jessawhy, we attended Muffin’s birth on May 24th, my husband cut the cord, and we were able to bring him home the next day. We’ll be sealed to him in December, on our 11th anniversary. I should add a link to our birth announcement!
Comment by Janet — August 21, 2007 @ 10:25 pm
Janet, this is beautiful. I hope you’ve save it for Muffin’s baby book.
Comment by Quimby — August 21, 2007 @ 10:50 pm
Lovely, lovely. I, too, hope you’ll save it for Muffin’s archives.
So glad I got to meet him and get a lovely drooly toothless smile!
Comment by janeannechovy — August 21, 2007 @ 11:05 pm
I give you hugs… and am thankful you didn’t name him spike.
Comment by just call me Cassandra... — August 22, 2007 @ 9:00 am
Janet, you almost make me believe in happy endings. I’ve appreciated your comments about motherhood, pre and post adoption. I wish you continued joy in your new adventure.
Comment by Lupita — August 22, 2007 @ 9:19 am
janet… (I’m still crying here)… that bit about how prayer and how God guides our lives… I really dont have good words to express my thanks for that.
thankyou. and God bless all three of you!
Comment by G — August 22, 2007 @ 10:08 am
You have a baby! You have a baby! As one who has followed the baby saga from the beginning, I am so happy to see you and your muffin together.
Comment by Shelah — August 22, 2007 @ 10:25 am
janet,
where is that most beautiful picture of you and D at hospital with ‘lil muffin?
you are radiant in that picture!!!!
Comment by mfranti — August 22, 2007 @ 10:43 am
as i was saying…
you should link to it.
Comment by mfranti — August 22, 2007 @ 10:43 am
Oh Janet, with all my heart congratulations on your wonderful family. What a beautiful post.
Comment by reese — August 22, 2007 @ 11:11 am
mfranit, are you referring to the one linked to in the main text which I posted as a birth announcement here at FMH? It’s the only one from the hospital where all 3 of us are in the photo, I think! It’s linked at the start of the 4th paragraph.
I’m going to try and get my blasted computer to upload and post a more recent photo of the little feller, since he’s napping.
y’all make me smile
Comment by Janet — August 22, 2007 @ 12:29 pm
Janet,
sorry i missed that. i love, love, love, that picture!!!
Comment by mfranti — August 22, 2007 @ 12:36 pm
Well, I did make the link rather small, didn’t I? Can’t seem to get wordpress to behave, so no changes or additional photos for now. Rats.
Comment by Janet — August 22, 2007 @ 12:54 pm
Janet, you are truly a gifted writer, making your amazing story even more so. I can’t wait to meet lil’ Muffin this weekend! Oh, yeah, and to see you again . . . . a bedroom by the bathroom is waiting for you!
Comment by Idahospud — August 23, 2007 @ 11:01 am
You totally rock. And I’m right there with you singing, ‘I have a baby! A baby! Wheeeeeeeeee!”
What a blessed little baby he is, too.
Comment by Heather O. — August 27, 2007 @ 8:22 pm
thank you for sharing this. it was such a treat to meet you both this weekend. i’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to work with the sling. maybe we can plan a time, as I’d love to be able to help.
Comment by mindy — August 27, 2007 @ 8:51 pm
What a story. Wonderfully written. Wonderfully lived. Thank you.
Comment by Amy — September 1, 2007 @ 8:06 am