My Motherhood Journey

I never wanted children.  Born to a single teenage mom, I carried the burdens of my own mother who suffered the statistics of a girlhood taken away too soon.  I was never going to make the same mistake and destroy my freedom by bringing a child into this world.  Besides, the world was shitty enough.  Why would I, due to my own selfishness and some delusion that I could somehow find immortality through my progeny, bring a helpless, innocent soul here to suffer?

Then I had (my version, anyway, of) a midlife crisis.  At thirty-five.  Up and got married.  A Celtic ceremony in the desert.  Outside Vegas.  It was awesome.  And then we went to Japan.  Lived the ex-pat life.  Supported ourselves teaching English and traveled throughout Asia.

And then the weirdest thing happened... at thirty seven years of age.  I saw pregnant women and suddenly felt jealous.  I imagined my breasts swollen with milk and providing life-sustaining nourishment to a child.  I felt a sense of emptiness every time I got my period.  Then I found out I had a uterine fibroid.

And I was pissed.

I don't like uninvited guests.  And then I realized it was a call.  A call to make peace with my uterus, my body and myself...

Back in America...

Conception was easy.  But pregnancy was not.  Early bleeding, huge fibroids, early onset of pre-ecclampsia--not to mention just my age, in general, did not make for a smooth ride.  Eventually, I wound up hospitalized on complete bed rest and my baby had to be taken early (at barely thirty-five weeks).  She was tiny-- four pounds and nine ounces, but she was strong...

And might I add, perfect.