the club

I always figured I'd be a mom.  It was sort of an unwritten thing, but it was just going to happen, because that's how things are.

Now, at the age of 44, I'm still not a mom.  Twice I was able to taste what it might feel like, but that is all it was...a taste.  When those little tastes ended, it felt like my heart was squashed down into nothing.  My breath was taken away at each memory, and anyone commenting on their pregnancy or new baby was a punch in my stomach.  For the most part, I'm past that, and am fine, but there are still days....

....days where, someone will go on and on about their kids and the things they've done, or how tired they are and need a break, and I look at them get a little angry.  Maybe I'm wrong, but I can't help thinking they should relish every second of that tiredness, because just outside the field of view on the sidelines, there are those of us standing silently, ashamed of what we have failed to do, who would love nothing more than to be that tired.  I'd be willing to bet if they were given a taste of life without those kids, they'd never complain again.

Of course I don't say anything.  For some reason it's too shameful to admit that failure....too raw or exposing to just say it out loud. 

I have been asked if I plan on having kids.  Who doesn't?  Except someone who doesn't want kids and usually those folks make it plain and LOUD that they won't be parents, ever.  I was 37 when I became Muslim, and I was 38 when I met my husband and we were married.  That is already closing in on the time frame where doctors all but write you off in the mommy department.  They shake their heads and cluck their tongues and talk about "advanced maternal age" and all the risks and the low percentages of success.  But why don't they talk to you in your early thirties?  Why not say "Look, your odds are going to only go downhill from this point, why not look into freezing some of those good eggs?"  Maybe I couldn't have afforded it, but maybe I could have, I'll never know.  The only thing that is ever really trotted in front of everyone are these women (usually extremely weathly or celebrities) having babies well into their forties.  No one says "donor eggs" or "massive fertility treatments" and you fall victim to believing you'll be just like that, it will be so EASY to have a baby in your forties.  Except it's not.

I've been around kids and babies since I was a baby myself.  I have older brothers and sisters and my first born nephew is a mere 4yrs older than me.  My friends started having kids when we were 18yrs old, so from then on, I've been around diapers, poop, wailing and vomit, and yet.....it's still a slap in the face when someone says, "You're not a parent, you wouldn't understand."  I don't think it takes rocket science or a baby to figure you must have consequences for bad behaviour or you'll have a kid that runs you; that babies need lots of love and hugs, and kids need explanations that are true but made into a version suitable for a 3yr old.

I guess the weather today is making me feel more melancholy, but I was reading something another Muslim sister wrote, about her family which consists of her, her husband and their kids.  Is that what family means?  Parents AND kids?  Can just a husband and wife still be considered a "family"?  I'd like nothing more to be in the "mommy club" and insha Allah (if God wills), I will be in it, although a late bloomer.  But if not, do others look at me and think that somehow I'm not complete?  I'm not really a family with just my husband and myself? 

For anyone who may read this who has kids, please keep in mind that simply because someone does not HAVE kids, does mean they don't want them, hasn't tried to have them, or has actually gotten that double line on a pregnancy test, only to have it end a few months later.  There may be, just beneath the surface and hidden by a smile, a world of heartbreak and loss so great it would crush you, that you simply know nothing about.