I was 34 and my biological clock was ticking. I was working a lot and traveling the world non-stop.
Everyone kept asking when the kids were coming.
Me, rocking mini-sidekicks? Nope, not gonna happen, I thought.
It was almost at the point that my family was just going to write me off as a dreamer, a hard-working travel feen whose career, money, and freedom just couldn’t be disturbed.
Truth be told…
I was scared to have a baby.
I was afraid of labor and delivery.
I was afraid a baby would hurt my relationship.
I was afraid a baby would change my body for the worst.
I was afraid a baby would put me in the poor house.
I was afraid that I might lose my identity.
When I saw the double-blue lines on the pregnancy test, I erupted into loud, boisterous sobs.
While most women’s cries stem from excitement and glee after discovering they will soon have a baby in their arms, my sobs came from a darker place.
I was deeply afraid of becoming a mother.
And the timing couldn’t have been worse.
You can continue reading about my experience becoming a mother and what I learned about myself in the process in my recent article on the popular motherhood, marriage, and faith website, Her View from Home.
When you’re finished reading the above article, I’d love to hear your thoughts. And, if you’re willing, how you started your journey to motherhood.
Post your story in the comments below and you may even be featured in an upcoming article or newsletter!