Complicated Like That

Baby

I always knew I was going to make an excellent mother someday when I was old enough. I always dreamt of holding a baby in my arms while I sang himor her to sleep or hummed if I was too tired. I dreamt about playing with them and feeling this heavy but warm feeling fill my chest as I watched them smile, knowing that was the moment I knew without hesitation or doubt that I would protect my babies with all the power I had in me. I guess you could say it's a natural instinct that pulls into play once you've figured out what you want in life. I remember all the nightmares I would have and the worst of them being the inability to have my own kids. I remember all the times my dreams were threatened whenever I got into a fight with my boyfriend because this was the one thing I knew right down to my bones that i was made for.

The good, the bad and everything between the life of parenthood was the one thing I was truly excited to endure. I am a loving and caring person by nature. Everything about this just felt right. I remember after my horrible break up feeling this emptiness that came from mostly losing hope that this dream would become reality and the searing flame of hope that raced through my body when I decided I didn't need a man to be a mother. Those  horrific, scary nightmares of  gynaecologist informing me that I physically couldn't have kids disappeared when I knew that I wanted to adopt even if I birthed my own children. It's so hard to explain in words but i would watch other mothers and their children with this fascination and raging hope knowing that above all, that is what I wanted the most. I just ... always knew I was going to make an excellent mother someday.

We got our dog when I was nine years old. A Jack Russell cross with golden fur that looked like literal sunshine and hazel eyes to match. Mischievous and curious but loyal to a fault. A gem who brought sunshine into my life. He was two human years old and fully grown. I have loved him with every fibre in my body since the moment I have laid eyes on him. He was extremely intelligent and obedient. A protector who loves going for walks and belly rubs. He has been the one constant in my life and this year marks the twelfth year I have him. He has been here longer than all of my friendships. Awaiting the odd hour of the night I would return home with a wagging tail and an excited bark. My life, my soul was just this one tiny dog. I have always called him my baby. In most ways I guess he is and as long as I am alive, he always will be.

But nothing has compared to the day I really felt like a mother. It was a hot summer's day, my neighbour had reported crying coming from my backyard and my mother and I decided to investigate. Barefoot, with shorts and a vest, my mother and I walked to the back and hear the noise. It sounded like birds were trapped in one of our empty boxes that were lying around. My dog seemed particularly agitated by this noise so I moved the top of the box and peeked inside. Two kittens were, barely a week old, were crying non stop. I hated cats. When i was three, I found a stray kitten in my yard and picked it up. The mother cat was not pleased and leaped into the air, scratching my cheek, leaving a deep scar that remains to this day. I was bullied for having this scar on my face and so my resentment was rooted deep.

These kittens were so vulnerable and absolutely adorable. One was grey with black stripes an the other was black. None of the neighbouring houses had any cats so it was a surprise to find these two abandoned in our yard. My father insisted on keeping them until they were big and strong enough to be out in the open. But they were difficult to feed or take care of. We had absolutely no idea what we were doing. After some research, I found myself at a pet store describing how big these kittens were to the lady. She suggested cat milk, and a bottle. So I came home, tired after a long day on campus with the formula milk and bottle, reading the instructions carefully and preparing it. I remember holding them in my hand because that's how tiny they were, and feeding them with the bottle.

Their little paws would grip onto the bottle as they drank from it like a baby would. That was the moment that validated all of my dreams and hopes. I spent the next month looking forward to every chance to feed them. We didn't decide whether we were keeping them so we refused to name them. I remember laughing at them when they tried to run and failed and the warm, fuzzy feeling that filled my heart when I came home to them running to my feet, waiting to be carried. I remember how horrible it was to bath them and wipe them and blow dry them, how I cursed every time it was my turn to clean up after them and lay down new newspaper in their litter box. The first time I heard them pur, I think my heart melted. This hatred that I once had for cats slowly diminished and all I would think about was how much I loved them and would do anything for them - my babies, finally.