Austin Moms Blog has received a lot of questions about having “non-moms” as members of our team. Today, Chelsea opens up about being a “non-mom” mom… just as she’s opened up about her infertility struggles in the past. What makes a Mom a Mama anyway? Here’s Chelsea.

I am the middle child of two other sisters, Jessica and Skyler, whom I love dearly! The three of us are very different from one another, but very close. When we were growing up, my mom used to ask us what we wanted to be when we were older and according to her, I always replied, “A mama.” Now, there were phases I went through where I would say I wanted to be a circus performer, a fashion designer, or a zoologist, but, at the core, I always wanted to be a mama.

My mother knows us very well and says we came out of the womb being who we are. She thought my little sister would be a lawyer from the time she was 3, and she’s now 27, working at a major law firm in Dallas. She thought my older sister would be a writer, and she’s had numerous books and pieces published. She is also an English professor at John Brown University. She knew I was destined to be a mother and said she and my father were always amazed at the way I related to children and the way they related to me. She knew I had a huge heart for children and saw that I seemed to understand them differently than most people. I haven’t had a child of my own yet… but… that’s a longer story.

So… Am I not a mama?

I met my now husband, Cloudy nine years ago in Dallas, Texas and began dating him knowing he had a four-year-old son from a previous relationship. I fell in love with this man before I even knew him and I’ve always wanted children, so becoming a “stepmother” didn’t even faze me…at first. My relationship with his son has been a challenge, to say the least, but I continue to love him in spite of his feelings towards me.

Am I not a mama?

I’ve spent $50 on Nike wind-pants for him for Christmas only to have him vomit on them immediately upon opening. I’ve had to drag him to the car when he’s thrown a tantrum in the middle of HEB because I wouldn’t buy him a Dr. Pepper float. I’ve been called names, manipulated, mocked, and hated, but I’ve had to tell myself that deep down it’s a cry for attention and I’ve continued to love him in spite of his actions.

Am I not a mama?

I started volunteering at Children’s Hospitals in college in the Child Life department, I did a four month internship, and then worked as a Child Life Specialist for about five years at various children’s hospitals around Texas. I’ve held a six-week-old baby in my hands while two doctors inserted a feeding tube in her nose. I’ve had a child ask for me by name during a routine procedure and then pee on me as I held him in my lap to comfort him. I’ve held the foot of a young boy during an MRI because I promised him I’d be with him, and the doctors told me I couldn’t stand too close. Of course I fought to hold his toe because that’s as close as they’d let me get, but I couldn’t break my promise to him. I’ve hid in a closet in the ER with a three-year-old girl and a box of Barbies to keep her calm while we stayed safe from her father, who she’d just shared had sexually abused her. I’ve loved a child so deeply that I’ve woken up in the middle of the night worried about him, only to find out from my best friend the next morning that he’d died that night.

Am I not a mama? 

I’ve changed diapers, wiped noses, read stories, sang songs, applied band-aids, fixed hair, and tied shoes. I have 16-30 children every day that rely on me to teach them, guide them, and love them. I love these children so much that I often contemplate how I’d protect them in case of a school intruder and I know I’d jump in front of a bullet to protect them if necessary. I know I’d throw them out the window if the school was on fire. I love so deeply.

Am I not a mama?

I also have my “tiger stripes,” so to speak. Only mine are in the form of bruises and skin irritations from fertility shots. I’ve been trying for a child of my own now for almost two years, unsuccessfully. I’ve spent every last dime I have on medicines and doctor visits and every medicine comes with a higher cost and more severe side effects- rapid weight gain, severe bloating, increased appetite, insomnia, fatigue, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, headaches, and redness. Instead of getting down about the fact that I don’t have a child of my own and perhaps never will, I’m trying to re-frame my thinking.

I’m a mama because I have loved countless children unconditionally. I’ve looked after them spiritually, emotionally, mentally, socially, and physically. I’ve done what was best for them, despite how it affected me. I have loved so hard it hurts, without ever needing anything in return.

That makes me a mama!

If you’d like to follow me on this journey, please follow me on facebook or twitter!

When did you feel like a “mama”?

What makes a mama?