The Accidental Mom
Original post from ExMo Show
I was supposed to spend my 30th birthday in Peru, climbing Machu Picchu and then drinking cocktails by the beach. That was the plan. Do you know how I actually spent my 30th birthday? At a Benihana, close to home, sneaking into the bathroom to pump and text my mom to find out whether or not my 6-week-old daughter had pooped. I wasn’t ever really sure if kids were part of my plan. My girlfriends would gush about baby fever and their ovaries doing some sort of dance, and I just didn’t get it. It wasn’t that I didn’t like kids, but I had things to do and I wasn’t sure they included a little person attached to my fun bags. To say that I didn’t choose motherhood and that it chose me is a super nice spin on the fact that I was sooooo stupid. I used to tell people that teaching high school freshmen is the world’s best birth control. Fun fact: you still need actual birth control. Playing fast and loose with the pill is a risky little gamble with some high stakes, and it finally caught up to me.
I was about 7 weeks pregnant when I finally figured it out. Most people would have clued in when they started taking naps twice a day and dry heaving at breakfast, but I was in that much denial. I was so terrified; not only did I know nothing about babies, but I had no idea how I would fit one into my life. How was I going to write the next great American novel or take up scuba diving or stay in bed watching Netflix all day? I spent nights planning how I could still remain the same person and squeeze a baby into the periphery of my life.
I was clueless to the fact that motherhood isn’t a hobby or a minor lifestyle change; it is an all consuming giant pendulum swinging back and forth, every minute of every day. Motherhood has filled me with love, patience, joy, irrationality, frustration, exhaustion, happiness, insanity, self doubt and everything in between. And I can run that gamut of emotions before breakfast. Most notably, I was so oblivious that motherhood would change who I am at my very core.
A formerly easy-going person, my paranoia and anxiety kicked into overdrive. When I start the dryer, I mentally plan our evacuation route should it catch on fire and I need to escort us all to safety.
As someone who used to roll my eyes when conversations turned to kid talk, I recommend you avoid me at parties because I’ll probably wind up telling you about my latest research on sleep training.
I’ve always been somewhat emotional (to be fair, if you don’t cry every time you watch a Walk to Remember, you’re a garbage monster), but parenthood brought it to a whole other level. I tear up when she brings me hand-picked flowers, and I literally hid in the kitchen and cried when I wasn’t invited to her pretend tea party and her dad made the cut.
I am now filled with an interesting blend of infinite patience and boiling rage. I can play the same game of hide and seek 14 times in a row, but for the life of me, I CANNOT AND WILL NOT ASK YOU TO PUT YOUR PANTS ON ONE MORE TIME!
Most notably, motherhood has humbled me more than I ever knew possible. Everyone knows that the best parents are the ones who don’t have children, and I’m no exception. Once she came shooting out of my womb, my confidence in my abilities tanked real fast. But every once in a while, I start to feel like I might be pretty good at this parenting thing. About a month ago, I fixed a vegetable curry for dinner and my daughter ate the whole thing. I started getting smug and began mentally congratulating myself for raising a child who wouldn’t just eat fish sticks and grilled cheese. Then, from the other room, I overhear her call her stuffed animal a dick hole and I’m immediately back to square one.
I may not have been prepared for this new version of myself, and it’s still a little unfamiliar to me. If I hadn’t been dumb enough to accidentally get pregnant, maybe I’d be living in Honduras teaching orphans or spending my free time rock climbing and learning Mandarin. Maybe I’d just be watching more Netflix. I’ll never know though, and my free time is now spent starring in a one-woman reenactment of Moana. If I said that I don’t miss my freedom, I’d be lying, but I’m also honest when I say that I wouldn’t trade what I have now. For every moment in the day where I want to pull my own hair out, there are hundreds of moments where I laugh at her made up jokes or she reminds me to sit in the dirt just to look at the sky. I didn’t see that coming. I especially didn’t see a planned pregnancy in my future, but here I am writing this while my toddler naps and a newborn is camped out on my fun bags.
So here’s to stupidity and happy accidents, and all the joy they can bring. But just in case, be smart. Take your birth control: same time, every day.