The Absence of Wanting

Recently, a friend asked me what was the most unexpected thing about being a parent. I hadn't been asked this question before, so it was hard to answer right away. But I've been thinking about it.

For such a long, long time, it feels like I have been wanting something in my life. Right around age 27, I decided that it was time for me to get married and start taking life seriously. The guy that I was with at the time was two years younger than me and did not feel the same way, so we parted ways. And then I started wanting... wanting to find Mr. Right. Dating lots of guys, viewing each one through the internal filter of, "Could he be The One?" Knowing deep down that in each case, there was some fundamental reason why it wouldn't work out.

And then, on December 15, 2000... along came Dave. We met at a party, started corresponding by e-mail and phone, and then making the 100 mile drive each weekend to see each other. Within a few weeks, I knew he was The One. So I had achieved my dream of finding Mr. Right. But the wanting did not go away. Now that I had found him, I wanted to get married. Dave had been burned before in a previous marriage and was cautious, understandably so. But I was impatient and wanted the commitment that I believed marriage would bring.

And then one day, Dave proposed! We got married nine months later. But still the wanting continued. I'm not talking about wanting like when you see a cute pair of shoes in the store and want to own them, or feeling thirsty and wanting a drink. This was a deep, agonizing feeling of something missing in my life that was always with me, no matter how much fun or joy or fulfillment I was experiencing. With such a wonderful man by my side, what more could I possibly want? I always assumed that this was just the nature of being human- that no matter how great my triumphs or how many dreams would be fulfilled, I would always want something more.

At first, I wanted us to buy a house together. I had career goals that I wanted to accomplish. I wanted Dave to relate to me more in the way that I related to him. All of these things happened. And eventually, I began to want a child. I wanted so badly to get pregnant. I felt this wanting would never subside.

Thousands of dollars and many, many failed cycles later, I came to grips with the realization that I probably would not ever be a (biological) mom. So now I wanted to adopt. And if you have been following this blog, you know this was a journey filled with heartache and disappointment and wild swings alternating between hope and despair. Until January 12, 2010. I am big on remembering significant dates, as you may have noticed. I have spared you many other milestones in this post.

And now we have the V's. Wonderful, happy, energetic little V's. And the wanting has gone away. Where there was always something missing, now there is the absence of something missing. Don't get me wrong, of course I still want things. I want to be better at my job. I want to figure out how to make this work/life balance thing work. That is a post for another day! I want, at some point, to build an addition to our house that will give the V's their own bedrooms. But all of these wants are skin-deep. If these desires are never fulfilled, I will be just fine. That aching at the very core of my being, that feeling of something missing- it's gone. Hopefully never to return.

So Lisa, in answer to your question, what's the most surprising and unexpected thing about being a mom? It's the absence of wanting.