I just want to be a mother

Please don't judge (or patronize) me

There’s a picture of me as a little girl, maybe about 5 years old, where I’m sat down on my bunk bed (dressed as a princess with a tiara and everything) holding a baby doll and a book. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t yet read but you can tell from the photo that I’m giving it my all, both the reading and the loving cradling. There’s something about the girl in that picture that sums up how I’ve felt my entire life and what I’ve yearned for underneath it all. I have, literally for as long as I can remember, wanted to become a mother.

There’s something about writing that for everyone to see that makes me cringe (and yes, I know we’re not allowed to say cringe anymore but it’s such a good word). I’m supposed to want more for myself. Like get a grip — I’m not some ‘50s housewife who has been chained to the stove and forced to be grateful. Thank god I’m not. I should want a great career, a fulfilling hobby (or three), to explore the world, to make good financial choices and stretch out my youth for as long as possible. The thing is, I was as sure 10-15-20 years ago as I am today. I am absolutely confident that one of my biggest priorities and wishes in life is to become a mother.

The chicest mama, Leandra Medina Cohen

If you’ve been here for some time then you might be recognizing this train of thought, as I wrote about my thoughts on “the other side of motherhood” a few months ago. Reading that post now I’m comforted to know that these thoughts and feelings are still as strong, still as valid. It can sometimes feel like certain parts of my cycle turn my brain into a baby making-factory, when in fact, I think about this far more than during ovulation. On the other hand, there’s a sadness present now that I don’t really see in my previous post.