To Mother, a conscious decision
Anyone can be a parent. It is a gift. It is a miracle. It is the most amazing and powerful responsibility many of us will ever have. But, most of the time, it is something that happens naturally, easily, without licenses or college degrees, without agility tests. Without A1c's in check.
It happens and we choose to hold our babies close, kiss them too much, stare in their eyes, read to them. We choose to make snacks for preschool, to show up and cheer on the sidelines, we choose to worry at night with feverish, tiny bodies in our arms, to teach our little ones to cross the street, hold hands, let go.We choose to be present. In that choosing we become mothers.
As a young woman at age 25. I had chosen to marry the man I had fallen in love with as a 19 year-old. I chose to be a writer, a librarian, a gardener, a bread baker.
But I didn't choose to have Type 1 Diabetes. Consequently, every choice I made after that diagnosis, became intentional, with meaning, with consequence. And becoming a mother was a choice. An incredibly big choice that I will forever be reeling from three times over. Something I thought about, dreamed about, feared about, researched. I asked questions. Eventually I made the decision that despite that I am a woman with Type 1, and I was older than 25, meaning my children would have a 1 in 100 chance of developing the disease. (http://www.diabetes.org/diabetes-basics/genetics-of-diabetes.html) I would become a mother.
This is the weight of an unknown future, unknown health issues, unknown everything. This is the blackness that I jumped into 10 years ago. It didn't feel black, or scary, or crazy. It felt right.
And here in my kitchen, bacon burning, the sounds of birds flooding through each open window, and feet, glorious little feet running up and down and all around.
I don't even think I realized how big the choice was. And should my children ever have to face Type 1 in their bodies, I will have so much to deal with, very likely a massive amount of guilt-a feeling that all mothers are blessed with once their children enter the world (as my favorite pediatrician, the late Dr. Maerz, (http://www.wbng.com/news/local/Remembering-Dr-Maerz--181597551.html) once told me.
I look at Everett, Wesley, and Eleanor today the day before my 10th mother's day, and the tears easily come. I didn't know when I made the choice that I would be driving them to a Diabetes Walk, cute little toeheads in the backseat, listening to Enya, and telling them how proud I am to have them stand by my side, and to be my little, healthy, sweet buddies on this journey. They were excited about the bounce house, the free hotdogs, and the friends they would see. I was overwhelmed by joy to be alive and to have them be alive.
I didn't know their toes would get caught in my pump line when I breastfed them, I didn't know they would be scared for me when I change my site and bleed a little more. I didn't know that my daughter would look at me checking my sugars and assume, that just like brushing hair, putting on mascara, and wearing high heels, becoming a woman included .being a diabetic.
As an educator who has seen children who have parents that really could have used some sort of parent litmus test before having children, I really am glad that it happens as it does. I'm glad it happened as it did, and that my entrance into the world of parenting and mothering was a certain choice.
As mothers, we don't know what kind of people our children will become.
We don't really know what they will have to face in this world full of blackness and uncertainty, sickness and health, but we know we will show up and be mothers. I know I will love them unconditionally, by the true meaning of that world. I will play songs that shape them, I will talk to them about the injustices of the world, and hope they take kindness as their weapon, I hope they will be strong, healthy, and happy. And I hope they know it was my choice all along.
It happens and we choose to hold our babies close, kiss them too much, stare in their eyes, read to them. We choose to make snacks for preschool, to show up and cheer on the sidelines, we choose to worry at night with feverish, tiny bodies in our arms, to teach our little ones to cross the street, hold hands, let go.We choose to be present. In that choosing we become mothers.
As a young woman at age 25. I had chosen to marry the man I had fallen in love with as a 19 year-old. I chose to be a writer, a librarian, a gardener, a bread baker.
But I didn't choose to have Type 1 Diabetes. Consequently, every choice I made after that diagnosis, became intentional, with meaning, with consequence. And becoming a mother was a choice. An incredibly big choice that I will forever be reeling from three times over. Something I thought about, dreamed about, feared about, researched. I asked questions. Eventually I made the decision that despite that I am a woman with Type 1, and I was older than 25, meaning my children would have a 1 in 100 chance of developing the disease. (http://www.diabetes.org/diabetes-basics/genetics-of-diabetes.html) I would become a mother.
This is the weight of an unknown future, unknown health issues, unknown everything. This is the blackness that I jumped into 10 years ago. It didn't feel black, or scary, or crazy. It felt right.
And here in my kitchen, bacon burning, the sounds of birds flooding through each open window, and feet, glorious little feet running up and down and all around.
I don't even think I realized how big the choice was. And should my children ever have to face Type 1 in their bodies, I will have so much to deal with, very likely a massive amount of guilt-a feeling that all mothers are blessed with once their children enter the world (as my favorite pediatrician, the late Dr. Maerz, (http://www.wbng.com/news/local/Remembering-Dr-Maerz--181597551.html) once told me.
I look at Everett, Wesley, and Eleanor today the day before my 10th mother's day, and the tears easily come. I didn't know when I made the choice that I would be driving them to a Diabetes Walk, cute little toeheads in the backseat, listening to Enya, and telling them how proud I am to have them stand by my side, and to be my little, healthy, sweet buddies on this journey. They were excited about the bounce house, the free hotdogs, and the friends they would see. I was overwhelmed by joy to be alive and to have them be alive.
I didn't know their toes would get caught in my pump line when I breastfed them, I didn't know they would be scared for me when I change my site and bleed a little more. I didn't know that my daughter would look at me checking my sugars and assume, that just like brushing hair, putting on mascara, and wearing high heels, becoming a woman included .being a diabetic.
As an educator who has seen children who have parents that really could have used some sort of parent litmus test before having children, I really am glad that it happens as it does. I'm glad it happened as it did, and that my entrance into the world of parenting and mothering was a certain choice.
As mothers, we don't know what kind of people our children will become.
We don't really know what they will have to face in this world full of blackness and uncertainty, sickness and health, but we know we will show up and be mothers. I know I will love them unconditionally, by the true meaning of that world. I will play songs that shape them, I will talk to them about the injustices of the world, and hope they take kindness as their weapon, I hope they will be strong, healthy, and happy. And I hope they know it was my choice all along.
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