Thank God for motherhood

Like some avatar of the Baby Boom generation, I became a mother via more than one route. I am a stepmother who helped raised her stepchildren, an older adoptive mother of children from another country and of a different race than I, a surprise biological mother at age 40, and now a (step-)grandmother.

Basically, I have been parenting children since I was 22 years old. Yes, for 35 years.

Someone close to me when I was growing up said that I was probably too selfish to be a good mother. (ouch) I believe, or at least, hope, that hasn't been the case. Thirty-five years is a long stint, and I'm not done yet! Parenthood is hard, hard work at times. It means not only financial and lifestyle sacrifices, but also less tangible ones for some of us: After we adopted, and then I got pregnant, I felt my ability to research and write long feature articles – a talent I had built my career on and won awards for – seeping out of my brain. I needed to divert a lot of my creativity to figuring out fulltime parenting with such a diverse brood, with some specific special needs, at such a late maternal age.

Je ne regrette rien. I love our kids and granddaughter more than life, and they delight me and nourish me without even trying. Their presence in my life still feels miraculous, as if I won a cosmic lottery. The blossoming of their unique personalities and potentials is an ongoing saga that absorbs me.

Dire family crises? Check. Learning disabilities and ADD? Check. A worrisome chronic medical condition? Check. Disappointments and that dreaded call from police about underage drinking? Check.

Big deal. My kids, wherever they originated and however they came to me, are priceless. Thank God I am privileged to be their mother.