With a title like that, this post could go so many different directions. Immediately, the popular 90’s Shania Twain song, “I Feel Like A Woman” came to mind, but that’s not the direction I’m planning on heading in. Also, the title could indicate a post regarding weight loss. But that’s also the wrong line of thinking.
Nope, today I feel like less of a woman based on our Sunday morning church sermon. This happens to me occasionally – mostly around Mother’s Day when preachers and Sunday school teachers feel they need to remind us all what it means to be a mother and how women are designed by God to be moms – to procreate – to raise offspring in all the ways of the Lord. Unfortunately, I know I’m not alone when I say that those kinds of topics just cut me to the kwik because I’ll never be a mother. Yes, it’s emotionally possible, but not physically possible.
I have shared here before that I found out at the age of about 14 that I would never be able to have children. At the time I had wanted to have at least 4 children. I had their names already picked out for crying out loud. I would walk around the house pretending my Cabbage Patch doll was one of the girls. I would sit for hours in our playroom just cradling her and cooing to her and singing little made up lullabies to her. I’d draw pictures of how I envisioned her nursery to look, and my Gram made me a bunch of doll clothes for one of my birthday’s and I would change her and dress her up and we’d go out places. I even had the little carrier that I could wear on my back if I wanted to, and I did. She was with me everywhere. She was my “baby”. All I ever really wanted to be was a mommy. And I was 12 at the time.
Fast forward 21 years and here I sit typing this sad and tragic post. Alone. My house is a uterus free zone. You will never hear the pitter pattering of little feet on my stairs. There will never be any baby clothes or nursery furniture to buy. No tiny socks to wash or play dates to attend. No pregnancy moments to cherish and no belly portraits. I will never have walls covered in school pictures or family photo Holiday cards to send out. I will never receive Mother’s Day flowers or homemade cards with hand prints from my little ones. I will never doctor scraped knees or cheer at Little League games. I will never sit and read Bible stories to my children or tuck them into bed at night after listening to their sweet innocent prayers. I will never be invited onto the carpool schedule or to a PTA meeting. When Sam is gone I will be utterly alone. And when I die there will be no one left to mourn my passing. No one to miss me. No one to clean out my house or wish I’d labeled things for easier distribution. I will fade into eternity like rain drops falling on a pond – forgotten in the blink of an eye.
Truthfully, I’m relieved we’ll be out of town this year on Mother’s Day. I won’t have to sit in church on Sunday and listen to the usual Mom’s sermon that’s given. I won’t have to watch as women years younger than I am stand up to be recognized when the “new mommy” call is given. I won’t have to walk by the kid’s wing and wish I was the one dropping my child off at Sunday school.
It makes me sad to think that my purpose in life is so small and insignificant. No matter how I try, I will never make an impact on history. For whatever reason God saw something wrong with me. Something inside of me is obviously broken and my heart aches over that.