I have always known I wanted to be a mother. When I was maybe 10 years old, I would ask the mothers at church if I could hold their babies during the service: Since so many of them had several children, they were happy to oblige me. I would skip Sunday school to go play with the kids in the nursery. I volunteered when I was a teenager at a local daycare and fell in love with a little girl named Melanie who I couldn’t help but pretend was my own child. There was just something about the weight of a child in my arms -- their soft cooing, their sweet milky smell, their giggles and even their tears. I loved that I could soothe them, comfort them, play with them and I loved that they needed me on some very basic level.
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