(I have tried to write this post many times. I write. I delete. I write. I save as draft. I delete. I write again. Delete. I don't know why this is so hard for me, but it is and it's time I write it write it write it and then hit publish. For reasons I do not understand, I cried about this all day. I knew it was time to write it, publish and never look back. I will not edit. I will post it exactly as it type it the first time.)
"What do you want to do after you graduate?" He asked me, during one of our late night phone calls.
"I don't know." I replied, as I giggled.
But I knew.
I wanted to get married.
I didn't need college. In fact, it wasn't even an option. My parents never told me the important of an education. You don't need an education when you have Jesus! You just need to love God, find a Godly man. Marry him. Have his babies.
One year and 5 months after I graduated high school, I married the man that asked me that question.
It's what I wanted to do. It's what God wanted for me to do.
The full time job I had at a Christian School ended just after graduation. But I quickly found a part time one, working in a public school-- after school program. It was perfect. Only 4.5 hours a day, but I'd get insurance, which my husband's job didn't offer.
Three years later, we had our first baby.
The baby I always wanted to have. The baby I wanted to take care of and love and nurture. I could take care of my baby all morning long, go to work in the afternoons, come back home and take care of my baby again.
I was a Mom. Such a good Mom. Because I loved being a Mom. I loved it with every fiber of my being.
My life was beautiful and felt perfect for us. We didn't have extra money, we didn't have fancy furniture. We couldn't afford to take vacations. But I had my husband. I had my son. That was all I needed.
4 years later, I was a Mom again.
I couldn't have been happier.
In 2002, I started a blog. Through that blog, I started to meet new women. Oh, how I loved these women I was meeting in the virtual world.
They were doctors, lawyers, writers. They were comedians, reporters, psychotherapists. They were lesbian, bisexual. They were single moms.
They were kick ass women.
I had lived a sheltered life. One in which I spent almost every waking hour in the House of God. And not your typical House of God. This was a House of God that preached "a woman's place is in the home!" One that forced women to wear headcoverings when they entered the church to show their submission to God and to their husbands. One that said women can't wear pants- pants are for MEN! And no make up, wimmins! Make up is for whores! "MONKEY LIPS!" one preacher once shouted at a woman who had come to church with lipstick on.
Swear to God.
So, to meet all of these incredibly diverse, successful women online opened up an entire new world to me.
I no longer could believe for one minute that a woman who had made a career for herself didn't love her children with the same passion that I, a stay at home mom, did.
I grew to love these women, admire them. Their words inspired me. They taught me. They made me cry. They made me laugh.
They changed me. For the better.
But then, something happened.
I started to feel shame.
Deep, horrific shame.
I didn't measure up to these women who were now my friends.
I didn't go to college.
I didn't have a career.
"Just a mom." I was just a mom.*
That had always been enough for me and then suddenly, it wasn't.
But it was.
But, it wasn't.
The thing that I loved about blogging when I first started was that I could write these stories of my life and people responded. I was embraced by these woman I was in awe of.
But, the shame.
The shame that I could never measure up. The shame that while they were writing "pieces" on feminism, I was writing about my ass eating my thong in aerobic dance class.
That's all I had to offer.
I started to feel like I need to keep my mouth shut, because, what do I know? I'm just a mom.
The question I fear the most when meeting new people is "where did you go to college?"
I feel so small. I feel so stupid.
I could have went to college after I had the kids, after I realized the errors of my way. But there was always a reason not to. How could I spend money on an education when there was barely enough to pay the bills? But let me be really honest here: It was fear that stopped me. It was shame that stopped me. That fear that I feel in the pit of my stomach as I type this. Fear that I couldn't do it, that I wasn't smart enough, that it was too late for me.
Recently, I received an email that said I had been chosen to be a speaker for Mom 2.0. I was thrilled, but I also thought it was a mistake. What did I have to offer? Have you seen the speakers list? Accomplished, intelligent, professional women. It HAD to be a mistake.
It wasn't a mistake. But I ask myself every day. "How can you sit up there with those incredible women? You don't belong there."
Last year I was lucky enough to have been hired for a full time/work from home job with BlogHer. I am surrounded by influential, powerful, intelligent, professional women. I feel so unworthy-- like, how did I end up here with this fantastic job and these incredible women? I don't belong here.
I am proud of the mother I've been and continue to be to my children. I never regret being their mother. How blessed I am to have them. So very blessed.
I just wish I could say I was proud of the person, the woman, that I am as a whole.
(Now that I wrote this for all to see, I shall never speak of it again.)
*this isn't how I feel, this is something I heard another woman say. "we're not JUST moms. We have careers." she said. "But... I am." I thought. "Oh, but *I* am."
Oh honey-- you aren't "just a mom" you are "A MOM". If the choice works for you, don't feel ashamed. You are not any less.