Teaching Me Motherhood

My husband Paul and I turned to his faculty friend and wife, who had adopted a five-year-old daughter, and learned that “All five year olds are cute!” and that their daughter was second best—although their faces belied their words.

We needed to have no children and be college-educated for the bright girl the state was considering for us. A photo of her in my arms was our early hope. On her first day at our home, she climbed into bed and announced she was staying—of course we needed to follow procedure.

Asking for the middle name we gave her as her first name, her dad chose a great aunt’s name for her new middle name, and she became my resident teacher of motherhood.

We were both nervous and inexperienced on her first day of school. After the morning kindergarten class, I learned Beth had felt scared and had begun to cry, and the teacher had put her on her lap. I felt grateful, but sad and disappointed, as I’d left her without her new mom being with her.

The state agency advised counseling, but I said, “No,” wanting to do my own parenting. As I matured, I began to see that position as my fear, my pride, and my stubbornness, as well as my immaturity.

Beth helped bring her sister Megan into our family—as a year and a half later I gave birth. When I began spiritual training, I saw our first daughter as a soul who’d volunteered to teach me that I did have the preferred qualities of motherhood.

My realization is, “There are connections among those alive and those as souls, which manifest when it is time for two to meet in the roles they are to play in the present lifetime.”