The Last Thing I Ever Wanted Was to Become a Mom

And Then I Became One.

I had no training.  No imprint of what being a mother should look like. 

Only a long list of what not to do scratched onto a square of paper & stuffed into my back pocket. 

But they say mothering is instinctual, that there is an energy that resides within you –

So I took a gamble, double crossed my fingers & banked on it to serendipitously kick in. 

The days eked closer to my due date.  My belly stretched in size.

Others pronounced – ‘You’re so big!  It must be a boy.”

I’d always respond with the only one acceptable answer a mother-to-be is expected to give,

“Waiting to see, but I’d be happy either way, as long as it is healthy.”

Deep down however, I would hope it’s a boy. 

I couldn’t even picture being a mom to a girl.

How could I?

I couldn’t mess up a boy – or so I thought.

I wanted a boy.

It had to be a boy.

I dreamed of a boy. 

For this child’s sake. It better be a boy.

I stumbled over my own self-doubt every step of the way.

The strong, independent woman I had become, slowly disappeared.

A puffed up, short breathed woman who endured too many meltdowns became the reflection in the mirror.   

How would I withstand the test of time when the physical & emotional draw on my body & mind slowed me to a crawl?

And then the day arrived.  My daughter was born.




She nestled in the comfort of my arms and something deep within me shifted.

I awoke to the fierce force of nature that lay dormant within me.

This was my moment of truth to be brave, to be strong.

Watching her in my arms, time stood still.

Every beat of her heart now her own.

The only real requirement of me was love.

The magic began to unfold.

For the first time in my life I finally had it all figured out.

I am not perfect.

I make mistakes.

But every day my love grows. 

Every day I prove to her that I was meant to be her mother. 

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