Message of warning- the content of this writing may be offensive and may even sound morbid. Reader discretion is highly advised.
I am not one to be on top of the celebrity gossip. Matter of fact, I get annoyed with how much air time celebrities get with their mundane life’s details. But, I recently saw a photo of Gisele holding Tom brady's son in People Magazine. It absolutely rubbed me the wrong way so here I am, needing to vent.
Recently, Gisele got a lot of grief over her comment “I understand that he has a mom, and I respect that, but to me it’s not like because somebody else delivered him, that’s not my child. I feel it is, 100 percent... I want him to have a great relationship with his mom, because that’s important, but I love him the same way as if he were mine. I already feel like he’s my son, from the first day.”
Well good for you Gisele. Yet somehow my postpartum hormones are screaming “you never had a baby of your own. You rarely spent any time with this baby. How would you know what it feels like to have your own son?”
Don’t get me wrong… I’m a firm believer of adoption and maternal instinct all of us have to a degree. Also, I would be much more respectful of her comment if Gisele actually did raise Tom Brady’s baby- staying up for days when he is sick, cleaning up all of his yucky diapers while offering her hand to wipe his nose when there’s no tissue in sight. I also believe that taking care of a baby is much more difficult and sacrificial than actually being pregnant and giving birth to a baby.
However, what entitles her to feel like this baby, who actually has another mother, is 100% hers?
Today, I asked my husband the question I ask every year or so. “Would you remarry if I die?” My husband rolled his eyes, and blurted out “I don’t think about remarrying EVER!” I began to think about my kids being photographed with another “mother” who is not me. It made me feel like crying, puking and fainting at the same time.
Before I was married, I didn’t particularly have a desire to live long. I wanted to live life fully while being young, and getting old didn’t really appeal to me. After I got married, I became more worried about my husband’s mortality than mine. I worried that my husband might just die on me one day, leaving me as a widow. However, now that I’m a mother, I feel differently and seeing this photo of Gisele makes me want to be around for a long long time. If fate demands for one of our lives to be taken away, I would definitely have to offer up my husband’s life, rather than mine (sorry honey!). The thought of my kids growing up without my husband is tragic, but the thought of my kids growing up without me … well, that’s just unbearable!!
Of course, God get the last laugh. After the kids were finally down, dishes put away, and tomorrow’s meal finished, I began doing my homework for the women’s bible study. The question I had to answer tonight was “if you were told that you had only one week to live, what would you pray for and what would you do?” What??!!
Dang it. My kids growing up without me would be bad. But my kids growing up without any mother at all would really, really bad. I shook my husband who was about to doze off.
“If I die, promise me you’ll marry again to someone who’ll love our kids as her own.”
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