As long as I can remember, I have always had a strong motherly instinct. I played with dolls for way too long, babysitting was my favorite job, and I’ve always been “the mom friend”. So, it should come as a shock to NO ONE that a major goal for my life has always been “become a parent.”
When I started dating my husband, we had the “kids” talk pretty early in the relationship. I knew that even though I was already falling hard and fast for this dude, children were something I couldn’t sacrifice even for the greatest guy on the planet. Fortunately, he wanted children as passionately as I did, and the conversation wasn’t awkward at all.
When we finally got married, we swore up and down to everyone who would listen that we would take our time before we had children and enjoy that time together. In my heart, I truly believed that I could go years before a baby would even be a slight desire of mine.
Flash forward a month and a half, and I’m on the bathroom floor at my inlaws’ house, curled up into a ball and silently yet vigorously sobbing. Why? Because I wanted a baby. The desire would hit me several times a day, and each time, I would end up on the nearest surface bawling my eyes out. I thought maybe this was a symptom of a fun new mental illness (it wasn’t) and that soon it would pass (it didn’t).
As this trend continued, my husband caught on that something was wrong. We agreed that it was too early for a baby and that we couldn’t afford it. Still, my heart ached for the child I had only seen in my dreams.
After much thought and prayer (along with seeing my therapist together) my husband and I have changed our minds about the time table for when we will have children. I’m happy with what we have decided, and I can honestly say that we’re coming out of this painful experience stronger. Still, the hits keep coming.
Recently, a person I am close to announced that she is pregnant. Although I am very happy for her, I feel like I’ve been punched directly in the heart. While everyone is so joyous about her news, whenever I even hint at my constant, heart-gripping desire for a child, I am told to stop and enjoy my marriage because once you have a child, your life is over. I know this. I do. But yet, I cried myself to sleep last night over the child I don’t have.
So this is my confession: I want a baby. I want to make a new life, to be so tired I can’t function, to be kept up all night, to miss out on all of the fun because I have a baby. I want to deal with terrible twos, potty training, and teething. I want to hear “I HATE YOU, MOM!” from my angry teenager because at least then I’ll BE a mom. And I don’t need you to tell me to appreciate my marriage and my life now because I constantly thank God for this. But as for now, I’m just another lady without a baby.