My husband and I started our family when we were 22. We wanted a large family, so by the time I was 27 we had four children. We thought we were done. We didn’t want to make any rash decisions, so we decided to wait until the baby was around three years old to do anything permanent.
I found myself in the throes of motherhood, and I LOVED it. There were times it was challenging, but I was self taught in everything, and I prided myself in the fact that I used cloth diapers, cooked home cooked meals, home-schooled our kids, and hand made all kinds of clothing and costumes for our kids. My husband and I coached their soccer teams, and we tried to be diligent about spending time together as a family.
Saying our finances were tight would be an understatement. I budgeted diligently and hand made lots of items to try to save us money. We were rich with the love of our family, and we were happy.
Occasionally, friends, acquaintances, or even passers by would offer that I was supermom…and though I would deny it, and humbly thank them, inside I would beam.
I didn’t have a great childhood, or a mother like all of my friends waxed poetic about. I vowed to be the best mother I could to my kids. When I was told I was supermom, I felt like I was actually succeeding!
Then, I unexpectedly got a positive pregnancy test. Our world was turned upside down. We were shocked, but we joked about not having any names left, and decided that this baby was a result of our strong and flourishing love for each other. We decided to rejoice in the blessing.
Time passed quickly, and before we knew it, I was 14 weeks pregnant. We decided to share our news with the world. To my surprise and delight we received only positive wishes and blessings {large family moms know this isn’t always the case.}
The next day I miscarried our surprise blessing. My world came screeching to a halt.
We had also lost our first baby. I prayed and prayed that I would be able to become pregnant again. I held my breath for three months through each of my next four pregnancies, hoping I would never half to know that pain again.
Somehow this time, I got caught up in believing this child was a blessing and the excitement of the surprise. I felt like it was meant to be. I never considered that we would not get to keep this baby. I forgot to guard my heart, and it ended up completely shattered.
I didn’t know what to do. I fell into a deep depression. I was lost, and confused. I’d drag myself out of bed and stumble through the day in a fog, doing the bare minimum to take care of our kids and keep our family surviving. Most people probably had no idea anything was wrong. I would cry myself to sleep, and wake to find the nightmare was still reality, and I had to do it all over again. This went on for almost a year. I’d start to get better, then I’d think about how I was letting our kids down; how I was not as present or devoted; how I’d never be called supermom now; how they deserved so much better than the mess I’d become. I laid down with my face to the floor and cried out that I give up. I couldn’t do it anymore. I prayed for help, and fell asleep crying once more.
The next day, I had a revelation. Supermom doesn’t exist, at least not fully. I didn’t need to feel guilty about all I couldn’t do. I needed to revel in all that I could do, and just make an effort to do the best I can. Supermom is all moms. She is all of us and none of us at the same time…all of us, because we are all strong women, who have carried life; and none of us because we all have our flaws, even Miss Perfectly Put-together Polly, and like us, each of them is different. I’ve learned that flaws don’t necessarily mean imperfection though, because they help us to build strength. As long as we are trying our best, we should never feel that we are not worthy to be called mother, like I once felt.
Losing that baby made us reconsider many things, including our family size. We decided we were open to the idea of another child. I suffered another loss, early on this time, at six weeks. That made three miscarriages for me.
I surprisingly became pregnant again the next month. I decided I would rejoice in every day I was pregnant. I would rejoice in every moment I got to experience with our child. I slowly counted the days away and to my surprise and delight I got to hear the baby’s heartbeat with the Doppler earlier than I ever have with any of our other children, at just nine weeks. I also felt movement far earlier than with any of the others. I was cautiously optimistic. We reached the end of the first trimester, then the second, and then on a cold January day our beautiful rainbow baby was born.
We went on to have one more child, who is a joy and a handful! I had health issues with our last baby, so he completes our family. We hope to possibly add to our family through foster care in the future, and in the mean time support foster and adoptive parents in a variety of ways.
You see, I’m still not supermom, but I know how important love is for a child, and that to many children, including our own, we can all be super, even with our imperfections.
