The last six jobs I've had, I worked with kids in some manner. Even if I'm only with these kids a short amount of time, I get attached. Before I know it, I love these kiddos, call them mine, and treat them as I would if they were biologically mine.
A few years ago I wrote a couple of posts touching on this topic: "They Call Me Momma Katelyn" and "It Doesn't Matter." One basically explains that my natural state is in the realm of motherhood, and the other offers examples of differences between me and my kids, but that none of them matter because they are, in fact, MY kids.
Recently, though, I've found myself becoming mad when a particular friend asks my opinion on something concerning kids, and then scoffs at my answer, saying, "Well, you don't have any kids, so you don't count," basically rendering my opinion invalid and unjustified.
Now, this friend, Cierra, became a mother at a young age, but I would consider her a Good Mom. There are times when I feel like she is being way too over-protective of her little boy, but other situations make me wonder why she isn't more concerned. That being said, I would never presume to tell her how to parent her child; while I may do things one way, she knows what is best for her son and how she should handle their lives. I know that all kids are different and have different needs.
Anyway, Cierra knows all about my career goal of being a Mom, and my last few jobs resulting in me having over 6oo kids. She knows how much I love my kids and how hard I work to make them feel loved and wanted (a lot of my kids come from ....let's say not the best home-lives....), but she also insists that I don't really have any "Real Mother Experience."
So here is a snippet of my Mother-Type Experience:
I've sat up all night with a crying kid in my lap, trying to soothe her to sleep.
I've been woken by a vomit-covered kid at my door, needing someone to stay with her and help her get cleaned up.
I bought pregnancy tests and held the hand of an expectant teenage-mother.
I held the hand of a rape victim, trying to convince her it wasn't her fault.
I teared up when my boy with autism admitted in front of a group of students that he could talk to me about anything.
I gave up my food and money to make sure my kids had enough to eat.
I left a job where I'd been punched, pushed, stabbed and cussed, but cried because I felt like I was letting the kids down.
I've tucked my kids into bed and sang them a goodnight lullaby.
I was a listening ear and a source of support when one of my boys told me he had thought of committing suicide.
This is by no means a comprehensive list, but merely a sneak-peak. To be fair, I haven't raised all of these kids since birth. But I've done my absolute best to be a good Momma from the moment they came into my life. I've said it before, and I'm sure that I'll say it again: I may not be a Mother in the strictest sense of the term, but I'm definitely a Momma, and you can't take that away from me. The love I have for all of my kids is definitely real and proven.
Questions? Comments? Similar situations you'd like to share with me? You know I can't wait to hear them!
