The majority of my heart.

There’s a few topics lately that have been turning over and over in my heart, constantly on my mind, unable to shut up about them. And since I have neglected this blog something real, I figured I would do what to me is the healthy thing–get it out in writing.

short-term-12-03

A few weeks ago I finally saw a little movie called Short Term 12. One of the most real and beautiful movies I have ever had the privilege of watching. Being me, obviously, I cried my way through the entire movie. The movie, for those of you that haven’t seen it (which you promptly need to after reading this), it is about a girl that oversees a short term foster care unit, after having grown up in one herself. That’s all I’ll say about it now. Go watch it though.

A couple weeks ago I had a dream one night that my brother and sister-in-law had fostered a couple kids without telling the rest of the family, and they only announced it to us because they were adopting these kids and they were so excited and wanted us to celebrate with them. In the dream, I completely lost it. My jealousy was off the radar. I was so completely envious of them. Married, fostering, adopting… While I was still single, motherless me. In the dream, I left the celebration because I was so upsettingly jealous that I couldn’t handle celebrating. I woke up in tears.

Here’s the thing about me, I talk quite a bit about adoption in case you haven’t noticed. But, it’s not just “a thing I want to do”. I called my brother a few days after I had the dream and I told him about it. His question of course was, “Would that really be how you feel if we were adopting?” I said, “Right now, on some level, probably. Unfortunately. But I would also be so, so, so happy.” I explained it to him like two sisters, where the younger sister gets married before the older sister, the older sister can’t help but feel it was supposed to be her getting married first. I said to my brother that fostering and adopting isn’t something that’s big on my heart, it’s the majority of my heart.

The other day I was out to lunch with a friend and we saw this pale blond little girl with blue eyes, and my friend says to me,  “That’s what your kids will look like.” I looked at the little girl who had the same towhead hair color I had as a child and did not remotely feel like I was looking at my future kid. A few months back, my friends and I were getting brunch in Vegas before heading back to LA. In the restaurant sitting across from us was this beautiful family, I looked at their son, a little black boy with long curly hair sticking out all over his head. I remember saying out loud to my friends, then, that I felt like I was looking at my future child.

You can tell me my young age until you are blue in the face, but to my heart (not every single moment, but the majority of moments) it makes no sense to me why I am not already a mom.

Me. Career building/desiring me. Full of dreams and plans, and zero desire to be a housewife ever. Me.

It is not something I want to do, it is something I am.

 

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