Growing up I watched the generations of motherhood and homemaking, from my mom and grandma and great-grandma. All raised in rural Wyoming on farms and ranches that seemed a never ending suck-hole to which I never wanted to stay. I never pictured myself as a “stay at home mom”. I was a very independent and outspoken child who dreamed of a blue collar job on the ocean front. The first chance I got I was gone. New Jersey and commercial diving called my name and for half a year I was living my dream. As rowdy and outspoken as ever, I fit in perfectly with the crowded mass of hard working men around me. As much as I hated it I even had a nickname “little boy”… could I have ever dreamed of anything more? No I was content. Christmas came and I went back to the homestead. Plans to leave kept falling awry, and love hit me like a freight train. Three months later I was a married woman, my plans to dive didn’t change, there was work in mid western America that could keep me busy. Four weeks passed and I couldn’t find a job, I had neither the age or experience required.
Then I got sick throwing up at every passing smell and taste. What I thought could be a bout of food poisoning turned out to be pregnancy. Pregnant, how could I be pregnant? Then plans really changed, I could remember countless aunts and other prominent women in my life being wonderful homemakers. A role and shoes I never thought I could fill. I remembered every time I came home from school the house would be miraculously clean, dinner made, clothes washed and folded. But most of all I remembered a calming, relaxing place, a perfect little sanctuary. One in which we were always free from the tyrannical judgements of the world. Then I remember my mother, she brought six children into this world of whom I am the second. She nursed us, loved us, taught us right from wrong, and to read, and write. All the sudden I felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility and love. I never wanted anything more than to be exactly what this baby, my baby, needed. How could I let someone else raise my child. I want to be the mother that is always there to comfort and wipe away tears, one my daughter knows and can count on. There in my own head, a decision was made, one that would change my life forever.
Nine months later, I have a beautiful baby girl and a loving husband. Yes, we live in Wyoming. Yes, I gave up a dream. Sometimes we give up old dreams for new ones, I wouldn’t change it for the world. I could not be more grateful for what this experience has brought me so far. I see my own mother in a totally different light and I love the person I am starting to become. One day I hope my daughter can see the safe haven I have tried to create for her, just like my mother and her mother before her.
homemakinghaven 