I remember when I didn’t want you.
I was young, and there wasn’t much about babies or being a mother that I knew, but I was full of ideas. Ideas of what my life would be like, the kind of mother I’d be, and the kind of baby you’d be like.
I imagined your eyes, your hair, your smile. I imagined your first word, first step, and first booboo. What your voice would sound like, if you’d be a belly-laugher, I even imagined that you’d want to grow up and play music like I once did.
I remember imagining everything down to the tiniest detail, and when they told me you were a boy, I remember that I didn’t want you.
In all of my life, my hopes, and my dreams, the only thing I had ever imagined was having a baby girl. It was the only thing I was sure of. I would have a girl, and we would be thick as thieves. We’d do girly things, and have that unmatched mother-daughter bond that in unparalleled by anything else.
I remember the feelings I had after that dream was shattered.
I remember being angry. This wasn’t fair. The life I dreamed of had been taken away. Why?
I remember being sad. Why couldn’t I have what I wanted? What did I do to deserve this?
I remember feeling loss. I was no longer happy to be pregnant. I was no longer looking forward to having you.
I remember feeling lost. Lost because I couldn’t control myself. Because I didn’t think I should be feeling this way. Because no matter what I did, I couldn’t be happy. Lost because I shouldn’t have been so upset that you weren’t a girl. Lost that I was, and there was nothing that I could do about it.
I remember going into labor and being scared. Scared I couldn’t do it. Scared I’d still be unhappy once you were born. Scared I couldn’t give you the kind of love you deserved. Scared it might never change.
I remember the first time they put you in my arms, and I remember exactly how I felt: disappointed.
Not disappointed in you, but me, for being so stupid as to think that I couldn’t love you for exactly who you are: my child. My wonderful, beautiful, amazing little child. Disappointed for getting so caught up in the emotion of disappointment that I didn’t get to enjoy the time that you were just mine and I didn’t have to share you.
I remember when I didn’t want you, and I remember being angry, and sad, and lost, but what I remember more than everything else is the moment I knew how wrong I’d been, and how RIGHT you are. I may not have wanted you at first, but it wasn’t YOU that I didn’t want. It was a silly idea in my head of who I thought you should be. I didn’t want you because I didn’t know who you would turn out to be- and who you are is so much more than I ever could have imagined. I knew that from the very first breath you took.
Now, I want YOU to remember- that no matter how I felt, no matter how I acted, you have been wanted since always. You will be wanted forever. And having emotions that make you feel lost, or scared, or angry, or disappointed are all natural. They are all okay. It is how we move past them that matters.
If you like to be constantly criticized over your peanut butter to jelly ratio on sandwiches, being a parent is definitely for you.
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