“You’ve never really been a baby person”, my Mother informs me over the phone while I plunge my nightly Ganirelix shot in to my abdomen. As I load up my Menopur injection she says “if this (IVF) doesn’t work, you should give up. You could adopt a two-year old. That way your body won’t be ruined and you won’t have to worry about the sleepless nights”.
My Mother, is 100% correct. I am not nor have I ever been a “baby person”.
When I was younger I never played with dolls, I never babysat and I never planned my dream wedding or dream family. I spent my free time reading about far away places and other cultures. My dream was to travel the world and birthing a baby was a very distant concept. Even today when someone enters a room with a baby, I will oooo and ahhh over it and then quickly escape to adult conversation, glass of wine in hand. My short attention span only allows for me to dote for about five minutes before I move on to something else. I don’t understand how people are mesmerized by a little person that does nothing more than sleep, cry and poop; unless of course the baby is their own.
What my mother forgot to consider in the course of our conversation is that motherhood, continues after a baby becomes a toddler. It goes on after the toddler reaches pre-school age. It continues through kindergarten, high school, college, marriage, children and even death. Motherhood is a lifelong commitment.
I don’t want a baby anymore. I want a human.
I want a human with my husband’s blue eyes and my blonde hair. I want a human with my husband’s laid-back demeanor and my curiosity. I want a human that laughs, cries and feels love, joy and compassion. I want a human that is so full of life and so full of imperfection that it makes them uniquely them. I want to mother my very own human with every ounce of who I am until I take my very last breath on this earth. I want to intimately know the highest highs and the lowest lows of motherhood. When my human hurts, I will hurt. When my human feels joy, I will feel joy.
I believe my Mother’s advice, comes from a place of maternal love. Something that I will one day experience. She watches her oldest baby physically and emotionally hurt and there is not a damn thing she can do about it. It has to be one of the most difficult positions to be in as a parent.
So she tries to rationalize the situation for the both of us by suggesting an alternative “if – then” scenario. But what my Mother forgets is that I am her human. With my Dad’s forehead and her determination. My Dad gave me my love of reading, NPR and healthy eating, but my fight and perseverance, now that came from my Mother.
If I wasn’t my Mother’s human I may have given up a long time ago. She taught me to fight for what I want and for what is right.
So “giving up” is not and will never be part of my vocabulary. If there comes a time where life requires me to adjust my sails I will certainly consider my options at that time. Until then, eye on the prize. Year of the baby. In it to twin it. I can’t wait to bring my little human home from the hospital come this fall. 🙂