A Divine Yearning

“Oh, I’m so glad you don’t have children.” – Ouch! The woman on the airplane didn’t know me, or I doubt she would have said that to me. She had seen that there were a lot of small children on the flight and was relieved to not be sitting by one. I didn’t tell her that I felt the opposite. Whenever I fly, I secretly hope I end up by children. One of my favorite flights was when the father of a toddler accepted my offer to provide double the lap space for his little boy to move around in during the flight. I got off the plane and discovered a half-chewed gumdrop stuck to my shirt. I considered it a badge of honor.

I’ve always loved children and ever since I was a little girl, I knew I wanted a large family. I don’t have an exact number in mind, but “large” to me means at least six, preferably closer to ten.

That desire has deepened over time. A few years ago, I attended a baby blessing. My cousin and his wife had just given birth to their first child, a beautiful little girl. She was only a few days old at the time of her blessing. I sat behind them in sacrament meeting and watched this little family. I was filled with a longing deep down in the parts of my soul I don’t probe every day because they’re too tender to jostle about like that.

I want to procreate. I want to create a life with someone I love deeply and know intimately, someone I trust more than anyone else on earth. I want to make a baby that looks half like me and half like him. I want all the joy of feeling that baby grow and I want the father by my side, learning and growing with me. I want sit beside him as he holds our baby and see the love in his eyes. I want to suckle my child. I want the unity and love that comes with that whole experience of procreation. Basically, I want Eternal life.

But, it seems I still have things to learn about patience, because God hasn’t ended the lesson yet (the annoying thing about learning patience is that it usually takes a while). I’m twenty-eight and my biological clock is ticking. With each birthday that passes comes a sense of loss: “Well, I guess I can cross Jimmy off my list…”

That sounds a little bitter. And maybe it is. But I think I do a pretty good job of avoiding bitterness most of the time. What makes that possible? First, I trust God. And God has made promises to me. If I’m understanding Him correctly, those promises will come to fruition in this life. And sooner, rather than later. (I have had some disagreements with God about His definition of “soon,” but I think we’ve reached an understanding.) Basically, I have hope. Sometimes I have to fight for it. Sometimes I have to cling to it. But I truly believe that God’s plan for me is to have a spouse and children in this life.

In my case, that assurance is important. It allows me to quit worrying about it and focus on making the most of the time I have right now. I never wanted a career, but having to find fulfillment outside of marriage and children has taught me some things. For one thing, it’s taught me that I really do want marriage and children. It has also taught me why.

In these carefree single years,  when I’m responsible for nobody but myself, I have been driven to find people to care for. I’ve discovered a common denominator in the jobs I find fulfilling: the opportunity to mother.

I loved teaching at the MTC. I loved watching missionaries grow. I was there when they said it was too hard. I was there when they cried in frustration. I was there when they tried to figure out how to teach the law of chastity for the first time. I was there when they felt the Spirit take over and felt the joy of speaking God’s words. I was there as they learned how personal revelation works.

I love my work with people with disabilities. I still feel a glow of pride every time I get a certain person to eat or wear shoes (trust me, it’s a big deal). When I’m having a bad day, I go visit a lady who smiles up at me with innocence and childlike wonder, then promptly grabs my hair.

Outside of work, I’ve explored other interests. At first, it scared me a little, because I discovered I really care about some creative pursuits and really want to make a difference in some causes. It scared me because I didn’t want to get passionate about things “outside” of motherhood and then have to give them up to be a mother. I worried I would be upset with God for letting it happen, for letting me get far enough to want things beyond raising children – to want them not as some vague dream of being a movie star, but as a tangible possibility that I could actually achieve with effort. And I was scared to put the effort in, only to stop short a few years later and be left with unfinished dreams. But I was also scared not to put in the effort and regret it.

And that’s the next thing I learned: Nothing good is outside the realm of motherhood.

When I wanted to volunteer, I brought my younger sisters with me. When I wanted to try making a wreath for The Festival of Trees, I turned it into a family project (my father even helped once he found out we were using real candy and he could eat the left-over gumdrops).

I started writing fiction and I realized I was writing for my little sister. When I showed her my writing and asked for feedback, she started showing me more of her writing. And then we talked about character and plot and morality and all kinds of wonderful things. I had my younger siblings help me with research. I needed a character with a damaged hand to climb a tree, so I took my little brother to climb trees at the park. I had to write a scene where one character holds another at knife-point, so I got a butter knife and acted it out with my little sister.

All of these wonderful, fulfilling, motherly experiences keep me happy. They don’t replace becoming a wife and mother, but they help me grow in my divine role now. I still have heavenly yearnings for things to come. But when I see my friends starting families, I feel happy not jealous. I’m going to become an aunt this summer. I intend to steal my nephew as often as his parents allow. 

And I intend to use him for shameless advertising. After all, he’s going to need some cousins ;)