My Thoughts on Marriage and Motherhood: a Confession.

My first wedding took place when I was five.  Honestly, I don’t remember anything except the location (an elementary hallway), the time (recess. Duh) and the groom—Cory Cooper, a pretty fine specimen for a pasty, blond six-year old. 

That was my first wedding… and possibly my last.  Don’t know, don’t care. 

Except, I do care.  I care a lot, actually.  I really want to get married. I said it.  I said it!  And I really want kids.  So there it is.  And apparently I have a problem admitting that.

See, I’m not that girl.  You know her—the girl whose sole desire at 9 is to be a mommy, who goes to college for the M.R.S. degree, and whose entire wedding is already planned via pintrest.  That’s not me.  I do not have a pintrest, and I was painfully career-minded in college.  Sure, I wanted a boyfriend (who doesn’t want a cute boy to give you chocolate, take you on walks in the snow, and make you feel special?! #lookingforloveandfulfillmentinhumans), but I had bigger dreams than just being a wife and mom.  I wanted to be an actress! A promoter of social change!  A beacon of light to teens!   An artist, educator and life-long learner!  Tina Fey!  (what?)  I still do want to be those things, actually.   But I used to think that choosing family over career would mean sacrificing joy and social contribution for the thankless, redundant life of diapers and carpooling.  Anyone could be a mom.  I had special gifts and a specific purpose for the good of the world.  (…allow me as I barf at my insane arrogance and ignorance.  Seriously, I’m ashamed.)

And then I watched Marley and Me.  Haha!  I feel like this should be a joke, like, “And then I watched Dora the Explorer, and my life changed forever….”  But honestly, father used Marley and Me to start injecting truth into my thick skull.  In the dog flick, Jennifer Aniston decided to quit her dream job to be with her kids, saying “I don’t want to have to sacrifice my kids for my job.   This is what I want.”  I realized that, being a mom is a sacrifice but not a bad deal—it’s an honor.  This epiphany was followed with others.  Playing Shelby in Steel Magnolias made me realize how heartbroken I’d be if I couldn’t have children.  Add a few strategic adoption stories and adorable Chinese children, and I realized that I really ached to be a mom after all.  Ached.  Investing in people is my passion, and motherhood is the most beautiful investment anyone could ever make in another human’s life. 

Similarly, the life of a nomad alerted me to the fact that it’d be really nice to always have one person that I’d never have to say goodbye to.  We could move together and grow together, daily adding to the intangible catalog of memories and knowledge of each other.   We could do the dishes together.  Go on walks together.  Read in silence together.  Make life an adventure together.  I don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone that I could endure 60 years worth of breakfasts with, but if I ever did, marriage could be pretty amazing.  I’m excited for the time when I can daily look for creative ways to show love to the same someone who I think is just the bomb diggity. I just feel like I’m capable of loving someone a lot more than I’ve ever gotten to, you know? Aaaaand CUE the sappy music…

Truth be told, confessing my desire to a wife and mom endangers my pride because if I admit I want something and don’t get it, the world will know me as a bitter, disappointed, isn’t-that-a-shame old maid instead of a free-spirited traveler whose life was too exciting to ever settle down.

            You know what scares me?  Karin.  Well, Karin herself doesn’t scare me.  She’s the most energetic, fun, giving person you could imagine.  Her love for father kept her bouncing from Estonia to Spain to Texas.  She is an utterly awesome mentor, and I can’t rave about her enough.  Because she’s single, she can move around easily, host parties and sleepovers, and invest in ways that wives and moms don’t have time for.  Really, Karin should be the poster child for Paul’s “Single is better!”  But here’s the thing… she doesn’t want to be single.  She has alwayssss wanted to be a wife and mom, and she’d be flippin good at it.  And…it blows my mind honestly.   Like, why would father give her these strong desires and then leave her hanging like that?  What if that happens to me?

            As people flit in and out from the transient life that I’ve adopted, do I truly rely on Father as my only constancy and best, most intimate friend?   I sing “He is all I need” and “All of you is more than enough for me,” but I don’t live like it.  Truth is, I’m terrified of loneliness, and, though I admire and respect the single women who live lives of pure service and devotion to father, I don’t want that life.  And I’m scared I’m going to get it.

And father, I wish I could just KNOW.  If I knew I was getting married at 33, I would rejoice, sit back, and truly RELISH these next 11 years, focusing on what’s really important.  I would know that it would happen eventually, so why drive myself crazy in the meantime? And really, shouldn’t I be living that way in the first place?  If you have it planned, you have it planned, and it’ll happen (…right?  Free will?  Sovereignty?  #ahhhmillsmommpaperrrr….).  Really, I should be executing each day with the kingdom and father’s glory driving my every minute of life. 

SO WHY DO I FLIPPIN CARE WHETHER I’LL BE MARRIED TO SOMEONE FOR SOME OF IT OR NOT!

But I do father. 

So where does this leave me, other than long-winded and vulnerable?  I guess all I can do is barf out the fears and desires of my heart, as if you didn’t know already.  I can hold out my future and heart and fallopian tubes to you (things were getting far serious there) and surrender…half-heartedly, because honestly I kind of hope that my “surrender” will immediately result in getting exactly what I want.  And that’s no good.  I want to genuinely surrender my desires to you and live the truth, believing that *You are good. * You know and love my heart. * You want to give me good gifts. * But you also know what’s best, and you love me enough to not give me what I want.  * Either way, your plan is best, your timing is perfect and you are capable of anything. * Either way, you are MORE than enough.  You are.  No contest.*  I know this.  Dear father, help me live like I truly believe it.