This goes to the woman who fights every battle with her own hands and taught me that it’s okay to break down sometimes, as long as you get back up and keep fighting.
Rebecca had the life that I dreamed of. She had a big house, two dogs, and a really nice mom and dad. I would sit in Rebecca’s house sometimes and watch in amazement as Rebecca’s mom hugged and kissed her and combed the tangles out of her long hair.
“I can’t lie. I had a reallllly hard time during pregnancy watching my weight tick up and up and up nonstop…”
It’s never been more glaringly obvious than it is now that there’s only one of me and four of them, and all of us have different needs in any given day.
Around the corner from every trying moment is a wonderfully reassuring punch, kick, or head butt from that tiny little human growing inside you.
Don’t get me wrong: I am delighted by the prospect of bringing a new life into the world. I expect to make endless compromises as I adjust to the life-changing milestone that is parenthood. But I refuse to become entirely selfless as I embark on this whole motherhood journey.
I work hard, so hard, to raise my children absent the straightjacket of gender stereotypes, but there will inevitably be manifestations of them along the road. And that’s fine. The goal is not to remove gender from the equation altogether, it is to deny it such an overriding role.
So think twice before loving and hurting a single mom, because when you love a single mom it is not easy for them to give their equal time, affection, and attention to all the people she holds dear especially her child.
Every little kick, punch, flip, or dance move you’re cranking out in there (I swear sometimes you’re doing the worm) reminds me that you’re an actual, real, little human – and it’s incredible.
When I am asked if I will ever have children of my own, my response has gone from a timid “don’t judge me” reply, to simply saying no. Sometimes just one word is the biggest truth we can ever tell.