Mom Chronicles: I wanted a baby, not a husband

This post has been sitting in my ‘Draft’ box for a couple of months now. Mainly because my feelings on motherhood and the choices I am making along the way are mixed and personal.

I am finally sitting down to write this post because I can’t get it out of my head and I believe if something stays with you (in your heart, your head, your gut…), you should see it through.

I also think that many women struggle with what I struggle with and I want to use my blog as a sounding board for all things related to motherhood.

“Why?”, you ask. Good Question.

Motherhood is a hell of a thing to go through in life. Everyone’s story is different-the where, when, how, why you became a mother varies. The process of conception, trimesters, delivery–all different. When that feeling takes a hold of each mother is different–The love for my children started the moment I saw their human-shaped bodies on the ultra-sound. Not the sea-turtle body that babies evolve into after a couple of months. The beautiful thing is, that even with all of its differences, there is one absolute constant: motherhood changes your way of life forever.

Becoming a mother absolutely rocked my world. It was something I always wanted and I wasn’t picky in the manner that it came to be. Due to my overly independent personality and the mind-set that I was going to become this Corporate America, female powerhouse, I was totally ok with raising a child without the presence of a father, having my own or adopting–it didn’t matter.

It just so happened that I fell in love, got pregnant, got married and now I am living the “2.5 kids and a dog (Junior, our German Shepard)”  American dream. And, let me tell you, I am so incredibly grateful that it worked out that way.

When I first met my husband, I was completely smitten– he was tall, dark, and handsome, smart, funny, super kind, we liked the same music, had the same kind of off-beat personality–it was amazing.

During our dating phase, I received news that I had abnormal blood cell formation, possible tumors, blah blah blah. I started spiraling through the memories of being 14 and having surgery to remove half of one of my ovaries which caused ridiculously abnormal periods and a more difficult (they claimed) path towards pregnancy.

Returning back to situation at hand, I went through a couple of procedures and the doctors determined that I could (in the most layman’s terms possible because it’s the best I can do) have my uterus frozen to prevent future issues. I could do this and my chances to have babies at that point would’ve been slim to none….more like “none”.

I decided that I needed to have a kid before I would agree to anything like that. After all, it didn’t matter that I wasn’t married–I had never really dreamed that up as my life. I knew that my boyfriend was head-over-heels in love and that the feeling was mutual, we both had good jobs and came from good families–no brainer, right?

Wrong. I was so wrong.

After I got pregnant, he did the most “ridiculous” thing and asked me to marry him. Seriously? Did he seriously ask me to marry him and potentially ruin this lovely relationship by throwing marriage into the situation? I declined his offer. I broke his heart and pissed him off simultaneously because, really, why would he be good enough to father a child with but not to marry?

I had no real answer besides the fact that I didn’t want to. Marriage seemed like the end of my anonymity, my…..everything.

Later on into the pregnancy, he asked again and I declined….again. It was getting ridiculous and when I say “it” was getting ridiculous, I mean that I was being ridiculous. I absolutely loved this man…the father of my unborn child…the person I actually saw my future with. The only difference was that the future I saw didn’t have me wearing a wedding ring.

 

 

 

 

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