There are a million things I could write about pertaining to where I don't belong. I feel like, as we grow up, there are constantly new places we don't belong in, new groups of people we don't belong to, and just a general sense of wanting to belong that we are never able to satisfy. There is this new group I have become a part of, one that I very much belong to, that has, at the same time, made me unable to belong to a different group. The latter group, of course, is traditional motherhood.
I could write for hours about the ways I don't belong to traditional motherhood, but that's not what this post is about. This post is about where I do belong. And that place, the one specific place to which I have no doubt that I belong, is mine and Brandon's little family. People can try to deny it, or try to take it away from me, but these are the things I know for sure:
- I am a wife
- I am a mother
- I have been married for six years to the most wonderful guy
- I became a mom after five years of marriage
- I am a mother to Carter McKay Robbins
- I am a mother to Lucy Bean Robbins
- I am also a dang good cat mom
- I am a mother in the least traditional way possible, but I am still a mother
When the days get hard (and boy do they ever) the places I belong are the places that make the days a little easier. Our home, the nursery, our babies' graveside, Brandon's arms, in bed with the cats. This past year has brought about a strong sense of isolation in many regards, but the one true place, the one group of people I belong to the most, is my sweet little family. I would rather belong to them than anywhere or anyone else in the world.
PS. Belong is a weird word if you type it enough times.