Why I Never Wanted To Be A Mom

Why I Never Wanted To Be A Mom

Why I would not have chosen to become a mom and why I'm glad I did.

Before I say anything else, let me preface with this: I would not have chosen to become a mother.

I never felt the call to motherhood, never felt the maternal urge. I wanted to live my life without being responsible for a tiny, squealing, helpless human. I did not want to change diapers ten times a day, spoon feed a banana-flinging toddler, or sacrifice my freedom and my body to the ravages of pregnancy. I thought that I was not equipped to be a parent; not financially, emotionally, or physically. I was convinced I'd end up on the operating table somehow.

Nothing changed when I found out that I was, in fact, pregnant. I was unmarried (engaged to my long-term beau, but still), starting the spring semester of my sophomore year in college, and only 19. I was scared, I didn't want my life to be put on hold, and I didn't want my fiancé to resent me (or the baby, for that matter) for the rest of our marriage for irrevocably altering our lives in a huge way. Granted, he said he wanted kids, but not so early on and at the time he didn't really know—and was not ready for—what that would realistically entail.

I gradually adjusted to my predicament, choosing to look on the bright side of popping like a balloon—which was getting fat without judgment and "eating for two." All the while, I was judged for other things, like how I never wanted kids (Silly girl doesn't know what she really wants) and my choice to remain in school (How selfish / She doesn't know how hard it'll be). I started reading From the Hips by Rebecca Odes and Ceridwen Morris—which was built like a textbook—and taking notes, pinning like a madwoman, and "nesting."

But I was still terrified of two things: 1) labor and 2) taking care of a living, breathing baby. After all, I'd only held one like two times in my life before. My best friend offered to let me practice on the neighbor kid she babysat, but I didn't want to subject the poor child to my misguided attempts to sit on him.

Fortunately, blessedly, miraculously, my pregnancy was pot-hole free and my labor was a breeze. I suffered no morning sickness, irrational midnight cravings, or miscarriage scares. I barely felt my contractions for the first six hours, it was over in another two, and I didn't end up getting cut open which, to me, constitutes success.

Afterwards, I was handed a red, squishy, blood-encrusted creature that I would henceforth call my daughter. There was no instruction manual and my prophesied maternal instincts were MIA, so my husband and I reverted to a trial and error process. Not hungry? Try burping her. Not tired? Sucks for you.

My planning process is now forever affected by concerns for a child. When I think about career choices and relocating for any opportunities, I have to consider how changing schools will affect her. When I think about traveling, I have to make (oftentimes expensive) arrangements for her. And on a smaller, everyday scale, every time I choose something over her—be it homework or date night or what-have-you—I sacrifice a little slice of our bond.

Now that all of that is out of my system, let me say that I am glad I had her. She was an accident, not a mistake. If I had not gotten knocked up, I would never have chosen to have children. Who would consciously choose sleepless nights, stitches on your vagina, and sore, cracked nipples? So I am glad I was forced into motherhood by a fortunate accident. Because motherhood has brought on a whole new realm of experiences for me.

I would never have known the joys of watching her gradually achieve new milestones, never known the pride—and the oddly pleasurable fear—of watching her discover herself and the world around her. I never thought I would be so invested in another person's bowel movements. I never thought I would be so excited about an infant trying mangos for the first time (though there's added incentive when her tiny bow lips move in quiet analysis).

Now that I'm a mom, I feel like I've developed as a woman; it's almost like I've joined a cult even. I share common ground with billions of women worldwide, with generations of my ancestors. I've added to the depth of my knowledge as a person and as a writer.

I have a daughter and I am her mother. I will always be such, whether she becomes one herself or not, whether I die or she does. It defines me, but it is also not all that defines me. Because I am still that girl who never wanted to have kids—I just have one now. I still want to travel and finish school and write a novel and save the world, and I will one day. And my daughter will be there and think, "Damn, my mom kicks so much ass."

Cover Image Credit: Katelyn Rochofrd-Price

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To The Boy Who Will Love Me Next

If you can't understand these few things, leave before things get too involved

To the boy that will love me next, I need you to know and understand things about me and my past. The things I have been though not only have shaped the person I’ve become, but also sometimes controls my life. In the past I’ve been used, abused, and taken for granted, and I want something real this time. The guys before you were just boys; they didn’t know how to treat me until it was too late. They didn’t understand how to love me, until I broke my own heart. Before you truly decide to love me I want you to understand these things.

When I tell you something, please listen.

I’m my own person, I want to be loved a certain way. If I ask you to come over and watch movies with me please do it, if I ask for you to leave me alone for a few hours because it’s a girl’s night please do it. I don’t just say things to hear my own voice, I say things to you because it’s important to my life and the way I want to be loved. I’m not a needy person when it comes to being loved and cared for, but I do ask for you to do the small things that I am say.

Forgive my past.

My past is not a pretty brick road, it is a highway that has a bunch of potholes and cracks in it. I have a lot of baggage, and most of it you won’t understand. But don’t let my past decided whether you want to love me or not. My past has helped form who I am today, but it does not define who I am. My past experiences might try and make an appearance every once in a while, but I will not go back to that person I once was, I will not return to all that hurt I once went though. When I say those things, I’m telling the complete and honest truth. I relive my past every day, somethings haunt me and somethings are good reminds. But for you to love me, I need you to accept my past, present and future.

I’m just another bro to the other guys.

I have always hung out with boys, I don’t fit in with the girl groups. I have 10 close girlfriends, but the majority of my friends are guy, but don’t let this scare you. If I wanted to be with one of my guy friends I would already be with him, and if you haven’t noticed I don’t want them because I’m with you. I will not lose my friendships with all my guy friends to be able to stay with you. I will not cut off ties because you don’t like my guy friends. I have lost too many buddies because of my ex-boyfriends and I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again. If you don’t like how many guy friends I have you can leave now. Don’t bother trying to date me if you can accept the fact I’m just another bro.

I might be a badass, but I actually have a big heart.

To a lot of people I come off to be a very crazy and wild girl. I will agree I can be crazy and wild, but I’m more than that. I’m independent, caring, responsible, understanding, forgiving, and so such more type of woman. Many people think that I’m a badass because I don’t take any negatively from anyone. Just like we learned when we were younger, “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all.” Most people can’t do that in today’s world, so I stick up for myself and my friends. I don’t care what anyone thinks about me, or their option on how I live my life. The only thing I care about is being able to make myself happy. Even though I’m an independent woman, understand that I do have a big heart. Honesty when I truly care for someone I will do just about anything they ask, but don’t take advantage of this. Once you take advantage of this part of me, all respect will be lost for you.

I’m hard to love.

Sometimes I want to be cuddle and get attention, and sometimes I don’t want you to talk to me for a couple hours. Sometimes I want you to take me out for a nice meal, but sometimes I want a home cooked meal. Every day is different for me, sometimes I change my mind every hour. My mood swings are terrible on certain days, and on those days you should probably just ignore me. I’m not easy to love, so you’ll either be willing to find a way to love me, or you’ll walk out like so many others have.

I’m scared.

I’m scared to love someone again. I’ve been hurt, heartbroken, and beat to the ground in my past relationships. I want to believe you are different, I want to hope things will truly work out, but every relationship has always ended up the same way. I’m scared to trust someone, put my whole heart into them, just to be left and heartbroken again. I sick and tired of putting my whole body and soul into someone for them to just leave when it is convenient for them. If you want to love me, understand it won’t be easy for me to love you back.

When “I’m done.”

When I say “I’m done” I honestly don’t mean that I’m done. When I say that it means I need and want you to fight for me, show me why you want to be with me. I need you to prove that I’m worth it and there’s no one else but me. If I was truly done, I would just walk away, and not come back. So if I ever tell you, “I’m done,” tell me all the reasons why I’m truly not done.

For the boy who will love me next, the work is cut out for you, you just have to be willing to do it. I’m not like other girls, I am my own person, and I will need to be treated as such. For the boy that will love me next, don’t bother with me unless you really want to be with me. I don’t have time to waste on you if you aren’t going to try and make something out of us. To the boy who will love me next, the last thing I would like to say is good luck, I have faith in you.

Cover Image Credit: Danielle Balint

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When Words Are Not Enough

Sometimes you just need to be.


Life is a roller-coaster of ups and downs. We all desire easy fruitful lives where no one ever dies and no one ever leaves. Instead, we suffer through hardships and great trials that test our faith. These conflicts often leave us worn down and feeling helpless. This is the time when words become a languid breeze, going through one ear and out the other. This is what you should do when words are not enough to satiate the pain you hold in trembling hands.

Focus all your energy into just being. No one expects you to get over the tragedy that occurred in your life, so don't force yourself. Just eat, breathe, and sleep until you feel up to doing normal tasks. Whatever circumstance that has stolen your breath and turned your life upside down won't go a week in a couple of days or a week. Wounds like yours don't go away instantly; instead, they take time and nurturing. Sometimes it's best to keep a sore covered but in some circumstances, know that seeing someone is okay.

These tragedies you face are real, and they try to break down the very substances that make you who you are. Counselors and therapists can help you make sense of the burden you carry. There are many reasons why you might be hesitant to see a therapist, but if the burden you carry becomes too much, a therapist can help you lighten that load.

Know that what you are going through is real and it is tough, but you will make it out on top. You are a survivor and a success story. Every single bad thing that has tried to tear you down hasn't succeeded, and this will be no different. Trust me, your story is not over.

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