Last year, I remember feeling a slight twinge of sadness on Mother’s Day that Denny and I weren’t in a place to start our family. It was a year of big transitions, and we knew it was smart to wait for the dust to settle. Cut to a year later, and life finally feels like where it’s supposed to be. Except on this Mother’s Day, I find myself feeling scared of what motherhood will look like and how it will change this life that I really love.
I know that any woman will tell you that there’s no perfect time for a baby. They’ll also tell you that it’s really hard but worth every minute. All of my friends who have become moms say their life is completely different, but they love it. I don’t doubt any of this, but I’m still scared of my entire life becoming about someone else. I’m scared I’ll never have time for myself. I’m scared that Denny and I will lose the time we have for each other that’s already so hard to get. I’m scared that after giving all day at work that I won’t have anything left to give when I get home.
I know that my job affects how I view motherhood and raising children. It’s a daily reminder that life doesn’t always go as planned, and the day-to-day reality of raising a child with special needs is harsh. There’s no guarantee that Denny and I will have a healthy child, and would that added stress make us another statistic?
I love my life right now. I love that Denny and I are both working jobs we’re passionate about and proud of. I love the cozy loft apartment we have in the heart of Fulton Market. I love walking to Pure Barre after work and feeling the energy of the city all around me. I love leaving work on Saturday and knowing that I have 48 hours of freedom to do whatever I want. It’s absolutely selfish, and I don’t know if I’m ready to be unselfish.
I know I want to be a mom, and I know it’s not something I can put off forever. I also know my personality, and I’m someone that can’t do anything on a small scale. I’ll push myself to be the mom who can do it all even when it can’t be done. My own mom wasn’t perfect, and yet she absolutely was. I worry that my type A personality won’t make my own kids as happy as my mom’s type B personality made me. What if the lack of sleep, job stress, and demands of daily life turn me into a person that just doesn’t make for a happy home?
I was recently watching something where a woman’s therapist asked her “Do you feel like you would be gaining something or losing something by having a baby?” (FINE it was on Southern Charm. I admit it.) My immediate response was “Oh, definitely losing something”- mainly all of those things I mentioned above. But, then I have to think, will that all seem completely silly? Will the freedom to grab dinner whenever we want or the afternoons browsing the racks at Anthropologie seem totally insignificant? I honestly don’t know.
I do know that the day we finally get that positive test or hear our baby’s heartbeat for the first time I’ll be ecstatic. I also try to remind myself that I’m lucky enough that I won’t be in this alone. Seeing Denny with our friends’ kids brings a huge smile to my face, and I joke that my parents will basically raise our kids (but it’s totally true). I know that I’ll make it work, but I just hope I’m able to maintain some sense of self in the process.
Welp, now that I’ve ruined my mom’s Mother’s Day with my musings, I guess I should go buy her another gift. She’s the best mom of all the moms, always and forever.