I started this blog to chronicle my journey to becoming a mother, from the before, to the during, to the after. I chose the name “Notyetmommy” because I had hope of one day becoming a mother and, at the time, I knew it would happen one day, but now I’m not so sure. I will caveat this by saying that I have by no means been told that I am infertile or that my husband and I will not have children, but I have this feeling. Call it woman’s intuition or just cold feet at the thought of being a parent, but I have this strange feeling in my gut that I will never fulfill my dream of becoming a mother.
I often find myself crying, and it’s gotten to the point where I’m never entirely sure if I’m crying out of joy, sadness, happiness, or defeat. My husband has forbidden me from watching things that he knows will make me cry (i.e., ASPCA commercials and anything dealing with Extreme Makeover: Home Edition), but I find that nearly everything makes me cry. I cry when Harold Crick lives in “Stranger Than Fiction.” I cry when I hold certain children at the center. I cry when I get frustrated with the dog, or about the cat hating me. I cry when I read, when I type, when I write, and when I do dishes and no one else is around.
I’m not entirely sure if I’m crying about not being pregnant or if I have some kind of hormonal imbalance, or even if I’m making up for being so emotionless sometimes.
I cry when I think about Sarah, but I know why I cry then. I cry because I’ve never loved anything so much in my entire life and I never knew that it was possible to love someone so much. Maybe it’s because I love her parents so much and I consider them part of the family that God created for me, or because I have absolutely no doubt that she is a miracle and I feel so unworthy to get to know and love her. The only thing I know is that I cry happy when I am around her. I cry hope.
I hope that my feeling is wrong and that I will get to be a mother one day. I hope I get to feel the kicking, and the feet in the ribs, and the heartburn, and the nausea. I hope I get to feel what it’s like to burst with love and to bring a life into the world. I hope I do not become jaded by seeing how unhappy so many parents are or discouraged with the trying. I hope that my planning and praying and hoping isn’t in vain. I hope that God’s answer to my pleas to be a mother isn’t “No.”