Late Bloomer: Motherhood After a Life Fully Lived

By Katie Cahn

Before Motherhood

There was a time in my life when I never thought about being a mom. Hell, every year leading up to the moment I realized I was pregnant, I never thought about being a mom. Life was too… fun… without a kid. I could go kayaking, hiking, snowboarding, motorcycle riding, fly fishing, on that Grand Canyon trip, and just about every other thing under the sun without guilt. Life was perfect, or was it?

I like to call myself a late bloomer. My childhood was a little wonky. My dad left when I was eight, and my mom raised my brothers and me on a single-parent income. Mom worked a lot as a nurse, and I was left to do my schoolwork as I felt fit. The woods were way more important than knowing the presidents of the United States.

College was not a top priority when I graduated high school, so I worked and found myself hanging with the right crowd. I started taking photos for a rafting company on the Chattooga River, and my second family became stinky raft guides who liked to yell FUCK SHIT UP late in the night. Never had I been in the presence of cooler people. I was home.

A Wild, Guiltless Life

Let’s fast forward through some of this. I could tell you about the private Grand Canyon trips, the snowboarding out west, the motorcycle trips across the United States, and then that one up the Annapurna Mountain Range in Nepal. I could tell you how it felt to release Scarlet Macaws into the wild when I lived in Costa Rica, or the rush I got when I almost drowned in ocean waves that I had no business being in.

No, I don’t need to tell you, because if you are reading this, you most likely have been there too. Those times were fun and hard and smart and stupid and… you get it. I was shaped by the guiltless life I once knew. I had no idea what life would throw my way, and I lived by that.

Starting Over in My Thirties

My last run with that past life was when I got back from a 6,000-mile motorcycle trip across America and into Canada. I had just turned 30 and decided that I didn’t want to be a server at a restaurant anymore, and maybe it was time to try school.

This was a really big decision, as I was a D student in grade school. I didn’t know it then, but dyslexia made it hard for me to read, and I had to teach myself self-regulation as a 30-year-old just to get prepared to take on college.

I enrolled in a two-year program at a community college and did well. Four-year college was next, and I surprised myself by making mostly As. At 35, I carried out something that I never thought I could. I graduated Magna Cum Laude in Inclusive Education. I still did not want to be a mom.

Relationships were easy for me to get into. They were not easy for me to get out of. I blamed my dad-less upbringing, but as an adult, and after years of therapy, I have learned that it isn’t uncommon to want a man to want you, even if you did have a happy parental childhood.

I was a serial monogamist. After many failed relationships, I found myself single after graduating college. This was the first time I had been single in a long time, and I had no other man to jump into bed with after my last breakup. It felt good and really fucking scary at the same time.

My last summer before becoming a full-time teacher was the last hoorah I can remember of my past life. I spent it at the rafting outpost on the river I love more than any other place I’ve been. Kayaking, swimming, drinking whiskey, and smoking pot was the theme.

Love, Marriage, and Illness

It wasn’t until my first day of being a teacher that I got a text from a guy I met at Lowe’s months prior that changed my life. Who would have thought?

Daniel and I started out slow. When I say slow, we didn’t sleep together until the third date. We were both 35 at the time. He helped me move my life into a cute little house in the woods, and I asked him to move in with me. To my surprise, he said no.

I couldn’t believe I was dating a man who didn’t want to share rent. This ended up being a powerful thing, and for a full year, we just dated. Then he proposed, and we got married. He then moved in, and it didn’t take three days for me to start thinking about divorce. How could anyone want to be married to me? How could I handle being married?

Three weeks after we married, I started experiencing back pain. The pain wasn’t going away, and with the help of nurse friends, and some run-ins with animals, I got a CT scan. It was kidney cancer.

The day after I was diagnosed, I was on the OR table getting prepped for a radical nephrectomy. I had my left kidney removed along with a 13cm tumor. My pathology report came back good enough to not need further treatment.

Nine weeks later, I had my left ovary and appendix taken out from a goose-egg-sized endometrioma. Severe depression was the theme, and it took me quite a while to find any sort of light.

The Pregnancy I Never Planned For

I know how it happened, and I don’t know how it happened. Waiting around three extra days for my period to start was not normal. Even with endometriosis, severe menstrual cramps, and heavy periods since I was 14, my cycle was clockwork.

I drove up to Dollar General and bought two $1 pregnancy tests. Honestly, I didn’t need the tests to know I was pregnant. I could sense it.

Daniel and I were beside ourselves. Doctors said it would be hard to get pregnant, and even though I knew there was a chance, I thought back to that fateful night on New Year’s Eve when we threw caution to the wind. Was this some sort of miracle? Did I believe in miracles? Is it a miracle to get pregnant when I never wanted to be in the first place?

Really, this is just science, and we knew better. We both agreed to not have children when we got serious. It was all just shocking. I was 37 and a half.

A Late Bloom

It’s been eight years since I found out I was pregnant. Myra Lou changed our lives, obviously, but it’s been one epic adventure.

I didn’t want to be a parent, but also, I didn’t know how great parenthood would be.

Her love for climbing trees feels like a horizon line just before dropping into a Class V rapid. Her humor feels like being at a campfire, drunk on whiskey, with my best friends. Her intelligence feels like making smart lines in deep, deep snow. Her rage feels like succumbing to the ocean. Her passion for greatness feels like the flower that buds late in the season.

I get to be part of her, and that means more to me than anything. Having her has deepened the love I have for my marriage, for my past life, for my new life, and for myself.

There’s a lot more to the story, but you get the gist. I own my own small business now and teach people how to make jewelry. It took me a while, but I feel rooted. Life is surreal at times, but mostly grounding and sweet, and I’m here for it.