Moments… and the Miracle of Motherhood.
I feel a little strange today…
Like I need to share something with my blog buddies, but aware that I am not completely in control of who reads my words… aware that sharing something personal on the web is a calculated risk.
But what is life without a little risk?
And what is a story without some real explanation?
And what is an explanation without the pinpointing of pivotal moments?
So *deep breath* here I go.
…
I make comments sometimes in the body of my posts that allude to my past, that assume a knowledge of who I am in the Real World. Which is fine for those who know me in that world. But is no doubt kinda cryptic for my internet friends. Of course Bush Babe is real – a part of me that reflects the bits of me I want reflected… my mother assures me that it’s pretty close to the real thing. (I add this just so you know I am not being a total fraud!!) The real me does take lots of photos, does adore her husband and kiddos, does forget things a lot, does strain against rules and authority on occasion.
All this is true.
…
But I am aware that I skim. I skim a lot.
It’s easy to let a cute photo deflects attention from the real story … and I am usually so busy I allow it to happen. I think: I really should explain that a bit better, maybe tomorrow, when I have more time, when seventy gazillion people aren’t calling out for my attention on two-way radios and telephones and emails and around my ankles?
…
I am no less busy today, but thought It’s Time.
Time to put a little dent in that shiny, shiny BB facade. Cause Lord knows I am far from perfect. Or shiny. At least in winter (gotta love that oily olive skin!).
…
I mentioned in my last post that I am the person (I consider) least likely to be a parent. This is no throwaway line. I feel it to my gut. It’s a role that for most of my life was unimaginable.
…
I was a tomboy growing up: Dad’s ‘right hand man’. Never wore skirts or jewelry much. I was a very outdoorsy, physical kid – riding horses, climbing, exploring, swimming. And I always had my head a little in the clouds. Always dreamed and yearned to discover what the world had to offer ME. Ached for MORE of something I did not yet understand.
…
So while the girls from my childhood tittered over boyfriends, got married, had children, made homes for themselves… I did not. I barely even had a boyfriend. I don’t really know why. I suspect I was quite introverted and unsure of everything except that I needed MORE. I grew up in a family of enormous personalities. I got overwhelmed sometimes. Basically I had not much to offer. I was a stranger to myself.
…
So I ventured, timidly at first, into the Greater World. I studied. I worked waitressing to help put myself through uni. I quit study, found a new passion in my photography and journalism, studied some more. Worked at a job, a career, I adored. Met lots of amazing people, delved into new cultures, travelled, exploring the world and amazingly discovering myself.
…
I discovered I am a fiercely loyal friend. A hard worker. And a half-okay cook who adores Italian food. A lover of good chardonnays and long dinner parties and Aussie Pub Rock. A follower of rugby. A terrible golfer. A fun girlfriend. But not really a Potential Wife for any of those boyfriends who would have been Serious Contenders. Can’t put my finger on WHY… it always felt wrong. I just couldn’t see myself as a Wife. Or a Mother. Sure I liked kids, but was never the one to whom people passed their babies. I didn’t cluck. I took photos, nicely distant from the soft, needy, helpless little souls.
…
My father fretted slightly at my lack of plans for adding to the family line. When was I going to stop ‘fluffing around’ and settle down? I loved my life and laughed at his less-than-subtle hints. I was busy doing Something Important, chasing my career, broadening my horizons. My mother was much more understanding… I suspect if she had born into a different generation she would have been a full-blown career chick too… she gently gave me the space to be the person I needed to be. Encouraging me to ignore the pressure to wed and procreate until the time was right. I think she thought the time would eventually come when her eldest daughter would succumb to Love and Marriage. But her daughter didn’t. Not for a moment.
…
I also discovered along my life’s journey that I am physically far from perfect. I don’t mean this in a cosmetic sense (although that is true also) but in a very real, functional sense. I won’t go into full detail here (another confession on this to come, I suspect) but I suffered from a condition that took literally years to diagnose. It was called Arnold Chiari Malformation. Basically my brain had a sort of hernia, giving me crippling headaches, affecting my breathing, and messing with my hormones pretty chronically. I had surgery. Big Deal surgery. And I slowly came back to ‘normal’… but the changes it made to me were long-lasting. The doctors knew very little about the condition (I think I was the second person ever operated on for it in Australia) but I was warned I might have trouble having children. That seemed like the least of my concerns at the time – I was happy to be able to spend a day without feeling like my head would blast off the top of my neck. But that fertility warning would come back to haunt me.
…
Even when I met Mr Incredible, I still couldn’t picture myself in the roles of Partner and Parent. Sure I wanted to be with him. I fought that for a while too though… our courtship was filled with passion and great food, uncertainty and independence, seperations and heartfelt reunions. It took years before we both quit fighting it, and settled down.
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And then one day, in the stressy lead-up to our wedding, I saw something. A moment which would change the way I saw my life’s path. An ordinary/extraordinary moment when I saw my sister with her daughter. My darling sister was going through a terrible time, trying to support me in my pre-marital dramas while enduring a relationship breakdown. And her sweet little girl, whose birth I had been present at and who I really thought of as Almost Mine, whose enormous black-brown eyes have always been able to reduce me to jelly. They were there at my house together, helping with something or other. Maybe it was making candles. Or stuffing envelopes. I cannot recall and it doesn’t really matter. What matters is what happened in that moment.
…
An 18-month-old ‘Salina said or did something sweet for her Ma, her innocent, plump face turned upward, eyes pleading, looking for a response from my sister. It prompted Jeanie to lean down and enfold her daughter in her arms. She had this LOOK on her face … this closed-eye, lost-in-the-moment, relieved kinda look that said:
“I have you… and that’s enough“.
…
And suddenly I felt it too. A tug. A glimpse. A glimpse of a world beyond Me. A bigger world. Maybe not better, but different. More. Scarier. But absolutely Intriguing. Certainly Special. Something I could possibly share with the one person I had really let into my life. My husband-to-be. And that warning from years earlier came back and echoed silently around my ears. I held that new vision at bay. I couldn’t let myself hope. Hoping for something I had never ever hoped for before…
…
Of course you already know the ‘end’ of the story. We did fall pregnant. Quite quickly as it turned out…. and you’ve never seen someone more shocked in your life the day I watched that pregnancy test show ‘positive’. I must’ve stared at it for hours.
…
Me? Pregnant? Me? Responsible for a child?
What on earth was God thinking? Didn’t He know me at ALL?
It was all some kind of massive joke… the world’s least likely mother was up the duff. I was still learning to let one person into my life, and now, here was one that would NEED me 24-7. Scared the beejezus out of me. But there it was. Positively Pregnant.
And was I prepared in the SLIGHTEST for this new role?
Not on your life.
In fact, I had pretty much wasted every SINGLE opportunity to arm myself for parenthood.
Neglected every little lesson offered to me through the 34 years leading up to that moment. And I had no idea where to start studying for this new career. The biggest job of all. A job which would turn out to reveal to me more about myself than any fabulous salaried role ever could.
…
So you see…
When I revel in the tiny moments of connection with my amazing offspring, it’s because they are quite literally my little miracles. They were dreamed of rather late. Their mother was comletely unprepared for the challenges and joy they would bring. I never stop being amazed that they managed to enter my world and (despite my shortcomings) make it the place it is today.
A crazy, chaotic, non-perfect, messy, mostly-happy place.
Who’d have thought?
Not me.
16 Comments
dykewife
no one can know all facets of a person on the internet. granted what one sees might well be genuine, but that picture is always going to be incomplete. thank you for this glimpse past the surface. 🙂
jeanie
Aww – you made me cry – I can never remember the name of what is was that you had, but I remember that you can never bungee jump.
Did you know that Roseanne Cash also was treated for it?
Glad I had some hand in your beautiful children!!
Love you.
traceelements
Thanks for sharing more about you! You know what? Apart from freaking out for you about having to have real freak me out scary type surgery, I don't think there's anything that you should feel vulnerable about! I really don't think a prerequisite for parenthood is to be clucky about babies from when you were a teenager! And I don't think there's anything that can really prepare you for your own children other than your own character and integrity. I know I can only "judge" you by what you share on your blog, but I'd never in my wildest dreams imagine that you and Mr I were in anyway underprepared for this parenting gig! Maybe you think you weren't.. perhaps in true Aussie style, you simply jumped in the deep end and swam like buggery …. I reckon you're winning gold medals all the way! Which just goes to show you don't have to be identified as 'parent material' from an early age!
Bush Babe
You know, I have managed to still leave a thousand things unsaid. I'm not much good at confessions, am I? I guess the unsaid bits refer to the absolute (unconscious) selfishness of my life til that day I watched Salina and Jeanie, to my inability to commit to a person outside myself. These things are kinda intergral to being any kind of good parent. And I stumble regularly. I see people who have lives so clearly mapped that there is a sureness to their parenting. Me? I am still feeling my way through the fog…
Jeanie – you crying has made me cry. Stop it. Love you too.
Trace – yes. Kinda addressed a bit in the prelude to this comment (comments can have a prelude? Who knew?)
Dykewife – thanks honey. Glad I haven't scared you off completely!! Again, refer to above…
🙂
Debby
I don't think anyone can understand being a parent until they are a parent. And you know, the very luckiest children are the ones who have parents who throw themselves into it with all of their hearts. The ones who have parents who see them as miracles. The ones who have parents who regular cry with joy because of them. You may have taken the long road to get to where you are today, but your children are blessed because of it.
How old were you when you had your brain surgery?
Oh, and 'naval gazing'? It does strain your neck. But if you were Jeanie, at this point, you couldn't do it at all.
Scotty
That was a big 'un, BB – hats off to you for having the courage to come out and say it, to let a few of us virtual friends take a peek into your world.
I still like you.
🙂
Country Girl
Wow. I have never heard of that condition. Oh, just wow.
I am so similar to you in a lot of respects. I was a tomboy growing up and NEVER wanted children. Kids were fine, as long as they weren't mine. And then one day, something changed.
Thanks for sharing a very personal story. I'm glad everything worked out! And your header says it all.
rhubarbwhine
Goodness. Well, let me start by saying, that I just posted my FACE for the first time ever, I think, and sans makeup and spots and illness on show. So I understand what you mean about taking the brave step to push 'publish'.
Right-0 now that's out of the way…. How lovely to read more about you and the person you have become. I loved meeting you and think you are pretty terrific just as you are 🙂
Bush Babe
Scotty… thanks! Glad to hear from you again – the things a girl has to do to bring some readers out of the woodwork!!! Heh.
CG – it was less 'wow' than 'holy cow' and not in a good way. But the end result is OK so that's all that really counts, eh? You sound a lot like me…
Rhubarb – thanks darlin'. I thought you still looked lovely, spots and all! And yes, I guess I am a bit of a tough nut really – that was hard for me (yet its nothing compared to what some people can share!).
🙂
steviewren
I had my first two children when I was barely 20 and 21. I never saw myself as a mother when I was growing up. It was never my aspiration to be a mother. I have no idea now why I let myself become one so young. I learned a lot from those two boys and when I had my last 2 children at 27 and 29 I was much more prepared. I always say the 2 youngest got the good mother. The truth is I love my children dearly and cannot image what my life would have been like without them. They are the best part of me.
Kelly
I appreciate your willingness to share all this here and see nothing at all that you should be ashamed of!
I'll admit that I'm also not one to normally gush over babies and rarely volunteer to hold one. Show me a puppy and it's a different story! That said, I've raised three kids, two of them I gave birth to. I love each of them with all my heart and would move heaven and earth for them if necessary.
Thanks for your honesty! (I thought maybe you were navel gazing because you might be thinking of having another!)
Kelly
Btw… from what I just said, you should realize now when I comment on your kids I'm not just being nice, I really mean it or I wouldn't say it!!
Mom L
You are amazing, BB, and I, too, thank you for this glimpse of the whole "you". Remember that babies do not come with instructions, so many of us are kind of caught off guard. I was ready to have a child – I'd tear up when I saw other new babies – but we finally agreed on the timing and voila! My darling Diane came into the world.
I was also a tomboy but my Dad said I also "chased" boys…I put gray hair on Mom's head but Dad just lost his!
You've done a beautiful job with your beautiful children, and they are very lucky to have been born into your family.
Nancy in Iowa
LeeNJ
At your first line, I thought you were going to tell us you were preggo again!!!! ;^)
Jayne
BB, I thought there was a HUGE confession coming that you were really Anna Bligh!
(((Hugs))) your kids are beaut, just like their ma 😉
Kate
I'm playing blog catchup today so i'm late commenting on this but wanted to say thank you for sharing! You have a great story and a beautiful family. One of the very best parts of this whole internet/blog thing is making connections with and learning from people half a world away.