While everyone is still bickering over who is a better parent and what needs to be proven in order to become a parent, I’m sitting here wondering why I have been denied that joy twice in my life. The sting of the question hits harder today, the day that would have been our Rose Angel’s due date. I have no answers. I have many questions. I feel very alone, very angry and very sad all at the same time.
I have no doubt that no one would have approved me to parent the Munchkin given the circumstances of my first pregnancy: due to my kidney disorder I was bed-ridden, unable to work or save up money and without familial support. No one would have said, “Here is a fine candidate for parenthood!” They would have written me off, much like I wrote myself off, unaware that in three months after delivery I would be working in my chosen field, making more than enough money to raise a child. They would have told me that love was not enough. Unable to predict the future, I denied myself motherhood and placed my child in another family’s home. Parenting denied.
Curiouser is our momentary pregnancy with Rose, lost before we received a positive home pregnancy test, we learned of the coming and going in the doctor’s office. Nicholas was still young. The pregnancy was far from planned but the loss still hurt, deep and wide the scar that still exists on my heart. Denied by biology the chance to raise another child in our home. Parenting denied.
I should be holding a newborn today. I should be basking in the joy that comes with bringing new life into the world. I should be celebrating with my Husband. I can still remember that ear-to-ear grin on his face as he first held our son. I should be seeing it again today. But I’m not. Instead, insults are still being flung across ethernet lines as people slam others for varying reasons; some with pure intentions of protecting children and others with venemous, self-righteous backing.
As a mother who has been twice denied, I refuse to engage in a useless war. If we would all, as in all parents everywhere, stop fighting long enough to realize and concentrate on raising our children in love, to be happy adults and to be grateful, every second, for those children, there would be less to fight about concerning the topics at hand. There would be no reason for parenting licenses or a “who’s better than who.” You will never convince me, or my son, that you are a better parent. Nothing can touch the love in our home.
I’m going to go snuggle my son, the only evidence I have that I am a mother though my heart knows it three times over, and be grateful that God’s grace will get me through the darkest hours of today.