My kid made it to their 20s. It seems a little surreal. I still remember how bad I wanted a baby. I think I wanted a two-year-old someone to play with. I wanted a child and knew how to get pregnant, but I hadn’t really considered the nine months or the labor.
All I truly ever wanted was to be a wife and a mother. I wanted a family, growing up I never truly felt like I had a family. (That can be a story for another time). I started asking my husband (at the time, I am now divorced) when I was 23 for a baby, but he said no. At 24, I started asking again and informed him that I was taking myself off birth control. It would be up to him to take care of that part. Then, when I turned 25, I issued an ultimatum. He would need to figure out if he wanted kids or a divorce. I wanted kids; he knew that, and if he had changed his mind, then we needed to part ways even though I loved him. I would need time to find someone else. What I found funny about ALL of this is that his dad, my father-in-law, was the only person who was on my side, the only person who agreed with me.
There was a lady at work who was extremely good at calculating which days would be the best days to get pregnant. I marked them on the calendar, in big red letters. It was in June that he decided we could try. One night in the middle of THE ACT, right before he finished, he looked me dead in the eye, looked up at the ceiling, back at me, and said, “F-it!” and well concluded his business. I lay there for a few minutes; you know, just to help the swimmers make it to their destination. I then got up to take a shower. While I was in the shower, he brought the toilet scrubber and some cleaner and said he had changed his mind. You can all think that it was rude and wrong, but in our relationship and his personality, it was a way for him to lighten his decision. I just laughed. I come from a generation where this was okay. He truly didn’t mean it offensively.
We went to an all-day concert in July, where I ended up feeling awful and getting a migraine, just awful, but we both chalked it up to the heat. A few weeks later, I went to visit my Nanny (my mom’s mom) and slept most of the weekend. That Sunday, my uncle asked one of my aunts to pierce his ear with a needle and ice. I got nauseous. I came home, and my husband was watching Jackass (that is something you should Google, or Utube), and it made me gag and get nauseous. I was still kind of just thinking I was just a little sick.
The next day, on Monday, I went to Publix while grocery shopping, and while there, I saw a two-pack of pregnancy tests for $4.99. I bought them. I finished shopping and went home. By this time, my husband was home. As the two of us were unloading the groceries, he saw the tests. He looked at me all funny and then said, “Do you think you are?” I just shrugged and said, “I don’t really know.” He looked a little pale and told me to go take the test. I did, and they both came back positive. He looked even paler. I told him that I would go buy a more expensive test. I left and went to Walgreens and got a pack of 2 that would read out pregnant, not pregnant. The first one, I must have messed up on. The second one comes back quickly, reading pregnant. That dude did not talk to me the rest of the night.
I think he needed some time to process the fact that I was pregnant. (There are reasons why he was hesitant about us having a baby/kid, and I will explore those later.) Yet, by the next morning, by the time I made it to work, he was ready to tell everyone. We asked his parents to come by after we got off. I told my stepdad on my lunch break. We told the people we worked with. I made a doctor’s appointment to confirm it for real.
As it got closer to finding out what we were having, everyone knew he wanted a boy. If I got asked what I would prefer, it was always the same answer: a baby. I did not have a preference. It was the truth. Yet, as it got closer, I kind of started to feel like it was a girl. I remember the night before finding out, I had a dream, it was a girl. The day we went for the ultrasound, he asked me what I wanted and what I thought. I said I didn’t care what we were having, but I thought it was a little girl. I then picked up a magazine in the waiting room with an article about a dad who wanted a boy and had a little girl. I gave it to him to read. I cannot remember if he read it. We were then called back for the ultrasound. The tech did her thing; it was a girl. He looked defeated, and the tech looked mad at the way he looked; she, after all, had four girls. After finding out, we started to call and tell people. When he called my aunt (the one I am closest to) he literally said, “It’s going to pee sitting down.” I never acted like most pregnant women, one, because he didn’t really seem to want a baby but had given in, and two, because it was a girl.
When people asked if I was happy about having a girl, I always gave the same answer. It still didn’t matter to me, but this was my chance to have the relationship with my daughter that I had ALWAYS wanted with my mom and never got. I was just going to have a different role. I was going to give her everything that had not been given to me, and I am not talking about material things. I am talking about love, support, understanding, openness, and calmness. and everything that I always needed but rarely got.
I am assuming that since she just turned 20, that is why all of this is floating around inside my head. If I could do one thing for her every day, it would be for her to see herself through my eyes, both sets. The set of eyes that are, yes, a little rose colored because she is mine, and I think the way all parents should, she is smart, funny, kind, beautiful, all things. Then the second set, the set that sees her as a person and knows that she is all those things. I KNOW that she is a good human, I see it in all her actions. I know she is smart and started college classes in high school, and is currently going to college for engineering. She is funny; she can make others laugh and smile with her one-liners. She is so beautiful when she dresses and does her makeup, but just as cute in her hoodie and sweatpants.
My mom used to tell me her job stopped the day I turned 18. I do not believe that to be true. I will never stop being her mom, her mother, or whatever else she needs me to be. She is the greatest gift of my life, my grandest adventure, and my greatest reward. I would love to take credit for all that she is, but honestly, she did all the hard work. Plus, I know that I have had help, so many people love her and have been there for her. I thank you all, for every person who has ever truly been there for her.
To the one who made me a mom – I am proud of you each and every day, no matter what. I love you so BIG, and miss you more (away at college, living your best life).
Okay, Love You Bye.
Leave a Reply