I was never the little girl who dreamed of having kids. Honestly, I didn’t even dream much about getting married like a lot of girls and even women do. I dreamed of becoming a beauty editor for a major fashion magazine. Seriously. My mom and aunt would buy me makeup and magazines as treats growing up. I went to college to study in the communication field and although my career dreams changed, my urge for children never appeared. I didn’t smile and have the temptation to hold a baby when one was around and I had no clue how to interact with young children.
I told everyone who listened that I never, ever wanted children. EVER.
Fast-forward to the present day and I have two under two. I won’t lie to you all; they were both surprises. Like holy-crap-how-did-this-happen surprises. We all know how babies are made — even I wasn’t that naive. My birth control prescription ran out sometime before my three-year wedding anniversary and I was too lazy to get it filled. A year and a half later, I was at a wedding and jokingly mentioned I hadn’t gotten my period. The next Monday morning I took a pregnancy test without telling my husband. It was positive. Guess what day it was? April’s Fools Day. I did not jump with joy or even immediately call my husband; I cried. I then found the contact information for our local Choices Clinic. I texted them to set up an appointment for a legitimate pregnancy test. I couldn’t call them in fear my husband would find out. I was just so shocked I didn’t know what to do. I went the next day and they confirmed the news. I am eternally grateful for their patience and the information they shared with me. I left with a pair of knitted booties, which made me smile every time I glanced at them.
I eventually told my husband that night and he didn’t believe me at first.
Then he was ecstatic when he realized it wasn’t an April’s Fools joke. However, I still didn’t feel one kick of maternal instinct or consider myself a mom. The pregnancy progressed and I had zero attachment to the baby. We didn’t learn the gender beforehand and looking back, maybe finding out the gender would have planted the seed for feeling a connection with the baby. Throughout my pregnancy I overworked myself between my job, the boards I served on, and the volunteer work I did. I was put on modified bed rest multiple times due to my never stopping and my fluids being too low.
I worked up to the day I was told I was going to be induced (at the end of 36 weeks because my fluids were low). I remember sobbing to my doctor out of fear and never stopping until we got to the car. That night, at midnight, they started me on Pitocin and the rest is history. When Grayson was laid on my chest it finally hit me; I was a mom. I made this tiny, screaming human who went quiet as soon as she touched me. I was meant to hold her tightly and whisper endless promises in her uncurled ears.
