Throughout the story, we find that Sima could never have children. She had tried throughout much of her marriage, had endured test after test, and found that her fallopian tubes were scarred from a disease. After all of the testing, she decided that she didn't even want to adopt. She was bitter, and upset about not being able to be a mother. And her marriage, although still going after many, many years was strained because of it. So Sime puts all of her efforts and affections into Timna, the new girl from Israel.
It was a really, really good book. At first, I could not tell where it was going when it would heavily describe the fascination that Sima had with Timna. It was getting a little weird for my liking, until it suddenly started to dawn on me, as we learned more about Sima's past and her inability to have children.
What a scary, scary thought.
Being totally honest with you, I have always feared this as well. Not so much the scientific inability to have a child, but missing the opportunity to be a mom. I was at a wedding once with a friend, and I said "Man, I so want to be married and have a baby." And that friend, who had known we really well for years, was shocked to hear me say that. My own father once told me that he had to drop me from his insurance when I was 23 - 23 or married, whichever came first, to which he responded with "which I don't know if I ever see happening for you." After my sharp reaction, he backtracked to say that I was just so independent, and he didn't see me settling down for anyone else but myself. I understood what he was trying to say, but having him voice one of my biggest fears in the Staples parking lot hurt me to the core.
I have not always had the greatest self esteem. And some days it waxes and wains - I think that most people can sympathize with this, especially women. I have days when I look in the mirror upstairs and feel great, and by the time I catch a glimpse of myself in the car window I've decided that I look and feel terrible. I hate that about myself, and I try hard to not let it get ahold of me when it comes. I try to shake it off, and think about the things that I truly love about myself.
So Sima's story, of not being able to have a baby, haunted me. I don't worry that I won't be able to physically have a baby, but I do fear that I will never have the chance to be a mother. And that would kill me. I know plenty of people who don't have kids, and they are amazing people, and they are doing just fine. But I know that some of them would have preferred to have children, but situations arose or didn't arise that made it not come to fruition. But I so much want to be a mother. I spend time with my cousin, who is an amazing mom, and even on her craziest days where she is drinking a glass of wine with me, I am jealous of her being a mom. I am jealous of all of the little things - of the "I love you's" and the pictures, and the silly days, and the playing games just because her kids want to spend time with her. I have always had a heart for children, that's undeniable. But I can't wait until I go the next step and those children that I am working with and spending time with, and playing with and being super silly with are my OWN.
So I understand Sima's longing for a child of her own, even though our circumstances are much different and she is much older. I just hope that one day I can look at my child and see that the longing wasn't permanent - that it all came in good time. And I know that it will if I just trust in the good of the world and the awesomeness of God and what he wants for me.
So Sima, I toast you. For making sure that women have bras that fit them and that they love, and for being so strong in the face of something that would otherwise cripple others. Even though I know you are a fictional character, I think you're amazing -- and I wish that this book was longer.
Until next time, everyone.... Thanks for listening to my blubbering. -Mandy
PS: I think I have kept true to my no emoticon challenge, Jewel. Do I get a gold star????
Two bra cups up. Wait, that sounds wrong. |