A Mother's Day Confession

Happy Mother’s Day!

Confession: I am terrified, absolutely sh*t scared, at the thought of ever becoming a mother.

There is this common misconception about me, fueled by thousands of pictures of me cradling tiny infants in my arms, that I am dying to have children. That I need to be a mother. That there is this empty space within me that can only be filled with a child of my own.

7 years ago, that may have been true. I loved children. I had dedicated myself to working with them; had professionally committed myself to nurturing and supporting them. I could think of no greater joy than someday having my own.

...And then I began to work with moms.

What puts me off of motherhood is not that mothers are chronically exhausted. It is not that they have a tremendous amount of things to do while simultaneously caring for a small human being who seems bent on its own destruction. It is not the diapers, or the tantrums, or the atrocious teenage attitude (sorry, Mom!). It is not the 24 hour schedule or lack of appreciation that so many internet campaigns and mommy blogs decry that frightens me.

It is the pain I have seen on the faces of mothers when a hurt beyond their control befalls their child and they can do nothing to stop it. It is the acute realization of how woefully little say I will have in what happens to this tiny being that means more to me than any words could possibly explain.

Though I do not know their faces, I love my future children so much; these unborn, protected, beautiful shining beacons of innocence and potential floating somewhere in the ether, waiting for their moment of self-actualization when they will take form and be named and begin trudging uphill alongside the rest of us in this overwhelmingly beautiful and awful journey that is existence.

I love them so much that I want to keep them where they are simply because I can keep them safe there. 

Say what you will about the joys of holding your baby in your arms. I’m not yet confident in my ability to survive the experience of spending the remainder of my life with my heart walking around outside of my chest on its own two legs with a strong-willed and defiant (if maternal temperatment is any indicator) mind of its own.

I am terrified to be a mother because I don’t know if I can handle that, and am perpetually in awe of any woman who can. Mothers wake up every day, love something outside of themselves beyond measure, and manage to muddle through hours of work or housework or errands without having a full-blown panic attack over whether or not their little one (or big one) is going to survive another day.

Admittedly, the past few years have been a little tough for me, as a woman and future mother. Beautiful, rewarding, enlightening, but tough. I loved and let go of the most amazing little person I’ve ever met. I’ve worked with moms going through the kinds of maternal hell most of us shudder at the very thought of. I’ve said goodbye to little babies I loved very much, knowing that the pain I felt at their loss was negligible compared to the pain their loving mothers felt. 

If I seem overly focused on the ‘worst case scenarios’ of motherhood, it’s because I’ve been deeply affected by seeing them played out by characters I’ve come to know and love. Motherhood is beautiful, but fundamentally terrifying.

So rock on, moms. Each and every one of you is far tougher and stronger than I. I will continue loving your children and being a part of the ‘village’ that nurtures them; laughing with you at their adorable antics, celebrating their accomplishments both big and small, and sharing in your sadness and pain when life is hard, or cruel, or unfair to them.

And to my own mom, who not only nurtured me when I was teeny-tiny but stayed strong for me throughout my own years of sickness, pain, and self-destruction; who spent countless nights sleeping beside me to make me feel safe, secure and loved; who took time off of work and drove hours each day for months at a time to get me the care I needed to get through my darkest days; who bore so much pain in birthing and raising me and worrying about me, only to have me grow up and give her more grief and worry by stubbornly moving thousands of miles away to follow my dreams- thank you. 

Today and every day, I have nothing but respect and admiration for you all.