Becoming a mother

It took me until well into the third trimester to let myself be excited about my pregnancy. I spent much of the first and second trimesters unable to believe that it was real, even as my body was clearly changing and growing. I was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, worried that if I got too excited somehow our luck would run out. I didn’t buy maternity clothes for a long time - thank goodness for a bin I had from a friend (thank you!) - until my husband bought me maternity tights as he watched me try to squeeze into a too tight pair of pants. We didn’t make a registry until the baby shower invites were in the mail. The nursery remained a guest room for a long time. I had a major wall up to protect myself from the emotional roller coaster I knew I’d experience if anything went wrong. 

I don’t think that these feelings are unique to someone who gets pregnant after infertility, nor do I think that everyone who has success after infertility feels these things. But I did. I’ll never forget a conversation I had with my mom well into the pregnancy. She said something like “I hope that you can get to a place where you can experience the joy of this time in your life.” I broke down and cried after that conversation, because I knew that  she said that out of love, because she so badly wanted to see me as excited as everyone around us was. To let in the joy of it. That, as my mom, it was really hard for her to see me keeping myself from feeling the positive stuff. She saw how much I had been hurt in the process of getting to where we were. I also knew that I needed to feel exactly as I felt in those moments. That infertility left a mark on me and that my experience of being pregnant was completely my own and 100% ok. 

Since our little miracle baby was born, it’s been easy to get caught up in the daily highs and challenges of caring for a newborn (during a pandemic). Will she sleep? Will she take a bottle? Why does she hate tummy time? In the day to day chaos I don’t often reflect on the journey it took to get to this place because it turns me into a puddle of emotions, but it’s hard to ignore on a day like today. Mothers Day has been hard the past few years. This time last year I was full of artificial hormones waiting to see if my body was ready to accept a frozen embryo. I wanted so badly to be exactly where I am today: a little sleep deprived and worried about whether my baby would take a bottle. I so badly wanted the good, bad, and ugly of motherhood.

So, today and every day, hug your momma (virtually, for now, maybe). She went through a lot to bring you into this world, no matter how you were conceived. To the mommas: you are rock stars. Pregnancy and motherhood are no joke. I’m thankful every day to be among you. To those who so badly want to be a mom: you are also rock stars. You can and will get through this, to whatever your “other side” looks like, but what you’re going through sucks and it is hard, and I’m here sending you the biggest hug. And to our little girl: we have loved you since long before we met you. Our light at the end of the tunnel. Thank you for choosing me to be your mom.