Pearl’s Mom

I wasn’t sure I wanted children.  I became a sister for the first time when I was almost 13, which at that age meant I was a more like a babysitter so by the time it was my turn to think about kids, I had pretty much had my fill of humans of the small variety.  Plus I really, really liked my freedom and independence.  I didn’t want to censor myself (or my music choices).  I lived a fairly selfish lifestyle and I was completely okay with it.  No one cramping my style, no one vomitting on me, no one saying Mom 5 million times an hour, no one messing up my stuff and no one being grown inside of me only to become so big that they are forced out of a small sensitive area.  That last bit really freaked me the hell out.  I really could not even fathom it.  Scary, scary stuff.  An utter miracle no doubt, but still scary.  As I type this I still can’t believe that we women actually do this, we are amazing!  If you’re a guy reading this and you have a Mom, tell her thanks, if you have a baby with a Mom, tell her how incredible she is.

Okay so I’ve layed out what I thought I had to give up to become a Mom and here is what actually happened:

I gave birth to the most gorgeous, petite, delicate baby girl.  My pregnancy with her came as surprisingly natural, I felt so empowered.  I was so happy and pleased with myself and my body’s abilities.   Here I was growing life, right there inside of me.  I took care of myself, I took time for myself, I journaled and I napped.  It was such a precious time in my life.  When I gave birth to her, her gender was a surprise because there aren’t many good surprises in life and our baby would be welcomed no matter the anatomy.  Though I did secretly want a girl because as my Grandma likes to remind me that everyone in our family has first born daughters.  I am very close with my Mom and she with hers, and I wanted to continue the tradition.  I really wanted a daughter who would grow up to become my friend (but first we have to get through all the challenged mother-daughter years).

I thanked God and cried happy tears upon her delivery.  I knew her name was Pearl, now I just had to convince my husband. Pearl was my great-grandmother’s name.  I dreamed my daughter to be bold and fierce and wearing this name would soften her edges.  I didn’t know my great-grandmother but everyone said she was kind and hard-working.  She was a country girl with a rough life but always had a smile on her lips and sparkle in her eye.  I wanted to honor her and bring those familial traits to life through my daughter.

Pearl is fun, wise, energetic, kind, smart, independent, a leader, tender-hearted, sassy, sporty, deliberate, inquisitive, obedient but not a doormat, present, inclusive, observant, resilient, open-minded, an animal lover and a complete goofball.  Some days she looks like a hillbilly who hasn’t showered in several days and other days she wants to wear a tutu to school.  I take such joy in the fact that she is comfortable being herself and sharing her awesomeness with the world.

Eight years ago, I became a Mom for the first time.  I didn’t lose myself by becoming a Mother, I grew into myself.  There was this whole other side of me that was untapped.  All this love was waiting to be given.  This tenderness was dying to be shared.  My experience, knowledge and values could be passed on to another generation.   It’s amazing that we get to fill our life’s missions through our kids.  Tolerance and equality for all people has always been important to me so now I get to influence my kids, who will influence others.  I know my daughter is a force of good in this world and there isn’t much more I could ask for in life (except maybe not listening to Kids Bop on the radio every single morning).