Unworthy

In my mid-twenties, I had a conversation with an acquaintance. This woman was a couple of years older than I was, she’d been married for a couple of years and she was trying to figure out if she wanted to have kids.

I asked her why she wouldn’t have kids. She said she wanted to but she was trying to find a reason to do so.

I said, “I want to have kids because I’ll be a good mother.”

She replied, “I’ll be a good mother but I don’t think that’s a good reason to have a child.”

I was stunned. What other reason is there? I wondered.

Now…I’m definitely not nearly as good a mother as I thought I’d be when I was 26 years old. Maybe if I’d had these kids back when I was younger I’d be better.

I don’t know.

What I do know is that I am not worthy of my children. I’m not good enough for them. I don’t take nearly enough time to appreciate them. I don’t cherish every single moment with them the way they deserve.

I get angry, I yell, I am so tired most of the time. All they want is my attention, my devotion. They don’t ask for much, just all of me.

And I usually can’t give that to them.

I don’t defend them often enough, I don’t teach them the things they need to know. I try.

I really do try but I know that I fail so much more often than I succeed with these two girls.

It hit me today that there are so many parents who have lost their children, who won’t get one more hug, one more ‘I love you’ from their babies and it’s so unfair.

I want desperately to deserve these gifts I’ve been given. I want to be in the moment, to soak it all in, to stop being frustrated and angry and distracted.

They deserve this from me and I deserve it from myself. I want to make the moments count, I want to stop apologizing for not doing these things and just do them.

I’m going to try. It’s the very least I can do for them and for me.