Dear Future Mothers

Being a mom is so many things that I never thought it’d be. From the time I was three, I knew that’s exactly what I wanted to be. I distinctly remember carrying around my very expensive lifelike Lee Middleton dolls throughout the house, feeding them, bathing them, putting them to sleep—playing house was my absolute favorite pastime.

When I found out I was pregnant, it was quite the surprise. We weren’t trying, we had just moved from North Carolina to Louisiana and were about to start the journey of recruiting duty, which meant long hours—very long hours and a lot of lonely nights for me. I remember the moment perfectly. My husband and I wanted margaritas. It was one of the first few nights in our new house. Cardboard boxes were still splayed on our dark mahogany wood floors, the kitchen was a disaster from unpacking, bare walls surrounded us. It was overwhelming and exhausting, just as every move typically is. So, we had the bright idea to get tipsy to help with the uneasy task of making a house a home. My husband rolled his eyes when I mouthed, “But first, I need to make sure I’m not pregnant.” This was kind of my thing, I always thought I was pregnant, even if I was only one day late. But, since it was my thing, I only had to follow through and take a test and then I could relax and drink in peace. So, off I went to the bathroom to pee on a stick—as I’m sitting there on the porcelain throne, peeing on a stick, I started to think about all my weird symptoms lately—getting carsick during a ride to the gym, which being carsick isn’t that much of a surprise but for a three minute drive? Yeah, odd. Craving a steak so bad that I made Joe take me to a steak house—now, if you know me... that’s absurd. I rarely like meat.  I peed, heart calm and steady in my chest. No nervous jitters, until I saw one little line pop up and then seconds later, a very, very, very faint line popped up beside it. I stared at it, feeling my eyes bulge out of my head. “No, I can’t be. Can I?”, was my only thought as I heard the blender in the kitchen making those margaritas that I wouldn’t be drinking. I grabbed the 99cent pregnancy test and somehow slugged my heavy legs to the kitchen, and with each step that I took, the line got darker and darker. My husband turned around, blender in hand, and took one look at my face, and then to the stick I was holding, as I mumbled his name, incoherently. He immediately dropped said blender and ran over to me, hugging me as tightly as he could. Tears pooled down my face as a smile over took my mouth. He pulled me back, “Are you really pregnant?” And I nodded my head, unable to speak. I grabbed my stomach, looked down at it and then at his face—which was full of happiness and a bit of shock. From that exact moment, I wondered what kind of mother I’d be. Would I be a good one? Would I be loving enough? Would I be the organic type? The kind that kept hand sanitizer on every corner of the house? Would I let others hold her?

Months later, I obstinately told my husband, “I’m definitely not co-sleeping with Emma. It’ll worry me too much. She’ll sleep in a bassinet for the first month or two and then her crib, in her room.” And, to take it a step further, “I’m going to breastfed until she’s twelve months old, then I’m done.” I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I knew exactly what kind of mother I’d be—how wrong was I? (Insert belly laugh, here). Turns out, I had no clue what mother I’d be. I had no idea that I would try the whole ‘working mom’ thing and completely suck at it. I had no idea that I’d be an organic-ish mom and make all of Emma’s baby food with fresh veggies and fruits. I had no idea how badly my heart would break at her cries. And, I especially had no idea that I’d nurse for fifteen months, and feel so saddened that it was over. Oh, and here we are eighteen months later, still co-sleeping.

I’ve learned so many things since seeing those two pink lines on that 99cent pregnancy test. But, the most valuable thing I’ve learned and wanting to share with all of you is that no one really has a freaking clue about what kind of mom they’ll be when their child is born. No one can fully prepare you for the decisions you’ll have to make as mother. People will judge, people will talk about you in the worst of ways, but they’ll also talk about you in the best of ways; “Look at that mom, working so hard to provide for her child.” And, “look at that mom, giving up her career to stay home with her child.” Oh, and “Look at that mom, co-sleeping with her child for a better night’s rest.” Or, “Look at that mom, sleep training her child, so they can sleep independently”. We all try to do things in the best way possible, for our child’s full development and the truth is, none of us have any clue what we’re doing. We’re winging it, trying our best and if a mom looks at you and says they have it all figured out, they’re lying! We all struggle, we all question our own actions, we all wonder if we’re good parents. The only thing you need to know is that if you love your child unconditionally, the rest will fall into place. They’ll love you for the mother that you are.