I no longer want to be a mother.
I decided to stop wanting to be a mother. It took a nasty cry/prayer (snot included) and a lot of pleading with God and deep breaths, but its official: I don’t want to be a mother.
In today’s society, there are a lot more women who have decided that motherhood is not for them. Some have chosen careers and lifestyles that aren’t baby-friendly, some just don’t want dependents and some haven’t found the right person to settle with. There could be plenty of reasons why a woman would decide to remain childless.
None of these reasons apply to me.
I have always been quietly obsessed with being a mom. I can trace it back to when my cousin Jamal was born almost 18 years ago. I kept him a lot. I got used to comforting him and watching over him. My grandmother had 7 kids and as her grandchild count grew, so did my baby sitting duties. I took them to church. I took them to school events. At one point my uncle didn’t even ask anymore. He just dropped them off. I was an automatic babysitter.
My older cousins starting having kids and even my close friends. I was surrounded with teen moms and although I didn’t want them at the time, my future children often crossed my mind.
That’s an understatement.
I had names picked out.
I wrote stories where every character got pregnant. There was almost always a set of twins.
Then I met him. The man I just knew would be my baby daddy. The one I just knew would be my husband.
Our relationship started with some divine intervention. Due to one part alcohol and one part disinterest, when he asked for my number I switched the digits around. Would you believe he figured it out? Like literally within five minutes of leaving the gas station, he was calling and telling me to save his number! I hadn’t told him this fact until months into our relationship, but do you know what my first thought was?
This will be an awesome love story to tell our kids.
I was that obsessed with my future.
Years passed and future children conversations happened. We had agreed on 5, settling at 3. I told him our girls’ names. We agreed about a junior. Discussed where we would raise them and agreed on discipline. My friends began to get married. Others had more babies. I became a God mother twice and an honorary aunt plenty of times over.
We were still just talking about marriage and kids.
In typical woman fashion, I figured it was me. Not only hadn’t this man proposed after five years, but I was well past the age I thought I’d have my first child at. Something had to be physically wrong with me.
Being as honestly raw as I can be: we did absolutely nothing to prevent a pregnancy. We were two saved Christians acting like we had no idea what we were doing was wrong. I pacified my conviction with our discussions of marriage. It would happen eventually, so what if I got pregnant first?
At least I’d be a mom.
Yes, I was that obsessed.
It got so bad that even when I knew that our relationship was over, I stayed anyway. I wanted to be a mom and I didn’t want a random baby daddy. Once it happened, we could just co-parent.
Are you judging me yet? Oh…okay.
My stomach twisted when I heard someone else was expecting. My ovaries jumped when an adorable little baby interrupted my social media time line. My heart hurt when my mom joked about her inevitable bond with her future grandson.
I told her she would not be teaching my child how to kick people, but I was obsessed with the thought of it. I was obsessed with giving that to her. I was obsessed with giving that to me.
I was 20, newly in love and planning a future family. Before I knew it, I was 27 and single.
27 and childless.
I have a private Pinterest board dedicated to my future wedding and non-existent child. I treat Mother’s Day like my mom’s second birthday just so I don’t have to focus on not being one. I have an unfinished letter to my first born daughter about how obsessed I am with being a better me right now to prepare for her.
But she doesn’t exist.
This isn’t healthy. Because although baby fever may be all fine and well, the unhealthy, doubtful thoughts are not.
I am deathly afraid that God has decided that I’m not going to be a mother. What if I’m so attached to the tiny people in my family because I won’t have any of my own? What if I’m not physically capable of carrying a baby? Or worse, what if He decided that’s just not His plan for me?
Would He do that to me?
And tonight, while praying for direction into these last months of my 20’s, I realized this obsession is slowly killing me. I’m dying inside over something I obviously cannot control. (Seriously, my friends already vetoed artificial insemination).
So it’s time to let the obsession go.
I realize that trying to manipulate Your will for my life is doing nothing but driving me insane. Your word says that Your plan for my life, the one You set before I was even formed, is beyond my wildest, most creative dream. My spirit believes that, but my flesh wants to hold on to this obsession…
I don’t know how to let it go…
Help me to let it go.
What’s something you are obsessed with obtaining that may be hindering you from enjoying your present life?