I hold a lot of mothering energy within me. I tend to be a caregiver; nurturing, and supportive while still being able to take charge and make things happen.
I don’t know if I naturally hold big mom energy or if I was encouraged to develop it. Both of my parents needed mothering. So I learned how to fill their needs at a very young age. When my brother was born I mothered him too, as well as an eight-year-old can.
When I was a child, I wanted to grow up and have my own children most of all. I’d practice with my baby dolls. My Barbie doll dated Ken. They got married, lived in their dream house, and had a pretend baby. At that time, Barbie could be a nurse, a stewardess or an astronaut among many other careers. My Barbie was a trad wife, cleaning and cooking for Ken. I thought that’s what I’d be when I grew up. I wanted to be like June Cleaver or Shirley Partridge or any of the moms that I saw on tv. I wanted to create the perfect family that I didn’t have.
My teenage years took a big turn as my family blew up with my parents’ dysfunction. I survived the trauma of that time by planning my escape to independence. I set my sights on graduating high school early, getting into college, and becoming a teacher. By the time I was 21, I had a real job teaching first grade and my very own apartment, just like Marlo Thomas and Mary Tyler Moore.
I still dreamed of finding my real-life Ken, getting married, buying a house, giving birth, and raising children. Romantic relationships were impossible for me after the trauma of my teen years. I couldn’t get past the first couple of dates to have a boyfriend. I kept trying with blind dates and singles groups, which was how you met back in the 80’s before online dating websites and apps. But I was unsuccessful at getting a boyfriend.
During this time, my friends were getting married, buying houses, and having children. I was the supportive single best friend, being a bridesmaid and giving baby showers. I became a godmother to four children. My heart ached. When would it be my turn?
In my thirties, I decided to take action and see a therapist. I thought it would be just for a few months to find out what I was doing wrong and fix myself so that I could find the right partner.
I wouldn’t have the life I’m living today without my wonderful therapist. We worked together individually and in a group for several years. She listened to my stories and helped me heal my trauma. She supported me to set healthy boundaries with my family and everyone else. Most importantly, she taught me how to mother my young inner child within me. I learned how to recognize my own feelings and needs. She gave me permission to prioritize myself and be my own caretaker first.
“You need to learn how to love yourself more,” my therapist said. That’s when I found Sex for One: The Joy of Selfloving in a bookstore. Betty’s words normalized my masturbation practice and encouraged my journey to self-love.
My menstruation suddenly stopped when I was 37. My periods were irregular since I was a teenager. I’d already had a series of ovarian cysts and surgery to remove one of my ovaries due to a dermoid cyst. A dermoid cyst starts growing in utero from the cells that become eggs in the ovaries. The cyst contained bits of teeth, bone, and skin. My body was trying to make a baby all on its own.
After blood tests, my gynecologist diagnosed me with pre-mature ovarian failure. I was in menopause. My dream of having children of my own came to an abrupt halt. I felt the loss deeply as I worked through my grief in therapy. Reading Forest’s blog post touched my own heartache from that time. I’m a childless mother too.
Around this same time, I was in a relationship with my first boyfriend. Marriage someday was still my hope but there wasn’t a deadline now that I wouldn’t be able to get pregnant.
I focused my mothering energy on my first-grade students and made my own home in the house that I purchased. To nourish my inner child and perhaps to help with my grief of being childless, I collected dolls. I hosted a wedding for my Barbie and Ken with all of my doll club friends in attendance. I gave myself a wedding and a home as I’d dreamed. My students became my children. I built my own life.
A year or so after I retired from teaching, my cousin and his wife had a baby girl that they were unable to care for. My aunt asked if I wanted to adopt the baby. Although I wasn’t yet sure of my path during this next phase of life, I knew that I didn’t want to start motherhood at the age of a grandma. In the end, I made a conscious decision to be childless.
Although my life didn’t turn out as I’d planned, I’m content and happy now.
I still mother the little girl that lives inside of my adult self.
I mothered over 600 first graders during my 31-year career.
Now I mother the Bodysex community.
Happy Mother’s Day to me.
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Laura Bogush
Cleveland, OH USA
Website
BodysexCleveland.com
Contact:
BodysexCLE@gmail.com
Language:
English
Read Articles by Laura
Gut-Punched by the Dobbs Decision
I was a teenager in 1973 when Roe v. Wade was decided by the Supreme Court. The 70’s was a time when women gained so many basic rights – The right to own a home The right to have a credit card The right to work while pregnant Just to name a few. I was optimistic about...
I Didn’t Know I Was Good at Sex
For most of my life, I believed that I just wasn’t good at sex. I considered myself to be later bloomer with partner sex. I was 31 when I had intercourse for the first time. After about an hour of kissing and touching, we went to my bedroom. I was aroused and eager. I...
My Memories of Betty
“A sister needs our help,” said 87-year-old Betty as she crawled on all fours across the circle and sat next to me. It was my Bodysex certification workshop and we were practicing the breath of fire. To my horror, Betty put her hand on my stomach, my most-hated and...
Finding My Voice
Art by Betty DodsonFor most of my life, I didn’t feel comfortable speaking up for myself. I was raised to be a “good girl,” to be “seen and not heard”, to “stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.” My own thoughts, feelings, and wants were diminished,...
My Dirty Mind
Art by Betty DodsonHe smelled like gingerbread. We made small talk as he prepared me for bed. Then he instructed me to lay down on my back and get comfortable. He pulled the covers over my body and tucked me in. “If you need anything just call out my name,” his deep...
Imperfect and Worthy of Love
“Do you think maybe it was a mistake to break up?” I said to a former boyfriend during a phone conversation, 3 months after he ended our relationship. I was devastated and unable to heal. He kept calling me. Our relationship had lasted several years, my first real...










