It's easy to look back and miss those things in life you wanted that, for whatever reason, never became a reality. It's harder, sometimes, to look around and appreciate - deeply appreciate - those things that took the place of your dreams.
Recently, I was asked in an interview what I'd wanted to be when I grew up. I hesitated for a split second before answering with the truth. I wanted to be a mother. That's it. That's all I wanted.
Growing up, I had the best mom in the world. Still do, actually. The youngest of four, I was her 'baby', and my earliest childhood memories are of the two of us listening to music as I 'helped' her with housework, snuggling in her lap as she read to me, baking Christmas cookies together, even going grocery shopping. She was there every morning when I woke up, and she tucked me in at night, and was there all of the hours in-between. She had this way of making every holiday special, whether it was a big one like Christmas or something more obscure like Abraham Lincoln's birthday. Mothering, to her, was such a joy and more than anything else, that's what I wanted for my life.
I remember when I was twelve I told her that; that I wanted to be a mommy when I grew up, and that desire stayed with me throughout adolescence and into adulthood. The only career path I wanted to follow was motherhood. In my mid-twenties, I met a wonderful man who shared my dream, and together we made plans to have a dozen children. Yeah, I know, but the way I look at it, if you're going to dream, dream big. So we did. And we got married and started working on baby number one.
And nothing happened.
Months of doctors' visits and samples and tests and ovulation schedules became the norm. Then, one day, the stick turned blue. Our elation was short-lived, though, because I miscarried in my first trimester. I'll spare you the tale of my emotional upheaval. Suffice it to say we didn't give up. We tried again. And again. And again. For ten years, we tried; trips to fertility specialists, hormone treatments, multiple laparotomies, eight IUIs, and more money than we could afford, we attempted to realize our dream. Of course, our plan for twelve children was gone. We just wanted one. One baby.
Unfortunately, four additional miscarriages - two of them ectopic requiring emergency surgery on two separate occasions to remove my ruptured fallopian tubes - and my dream was gone. We considered adoption; spoke with an agency, met with an attorney, came very close to adopting twins, but it didn't work out for a multitude of reasons. My heart was broken. I was never going to be a mom.
The Universe, however, in its subtle way, had been providing me with an alternative opportunity to mother. During that decade of infertility treatments and surgeries and pregnancies and miscarriages, my husband and I had been rescuing strays. Dogs, cats, puppies, kittens - even ferrets; any animal that needed a home was welcome at ours. Caring for them fulfilled my nurturing needs, and though it wasn't immediately apparent, I realized I didn't have to have human children to be a mom.
It's been more than a decade since my reality shifted. I'm almost fifty-two now, and sincerely believe that my life to this point has worked out the way it was supposed to. I was meant to mother these creatures who depend on me to keep them warm and fed and healthy and safe.
There are moments I still feel the longing to have children in my life and wonder what it would be like today had things worked out differently. When friends post pictures of their kids' big events - proms, graduations, weddings - or when they share photos of grandbabies, I feel like I'm missing out. And then I look around at the lives I've saved, and I know I'm exactly who and where I'm meant to be.
This guy here is Rebel, and for eighteen years he's been a part of the family. Eighteen. The same number of years it takes for a child to grow from infancy into adulthood. He's just one of the many my husband and I rescued, and while I have moments where I feel like I've missed out on that part of my life that never was, when I look around my home, all I see is love.
