Personal Story: Wishes for a Mother to be

Musings from a Mother-to-be

By Maggie Allen

There are many feelings that whirl around in your head when you realize you’re going to have a baby. At least where the first child is concerned, I think terror is a fairly universal one. Because no matter how much you may want them, there will always come that spike from the unknown; the sudden doubt and worry that all of your meticulous planning won’t be enough to keep you from royally screwing up. A tiny human life is coming soon, and there’s a lot that you didn’t, don’t, and won’t know ahead of time.

Incidentally, the night I discovered I was pregnant with my first child was Halloween, the night when we all collectively embrace and celebrate terror in its various forms. This was, of course, one month after my husband and I had decided to stop actively trying to conceive. It just didn’t seem like it wanted to happen, and besides, was now really the best time anyway?

In the midst of the Covid-19 pandemic, it was even more uncertain and worrisome than it might have been in a normal year. The debates leading up to the day were pretty heated; was it safe for kids to be out trick-or-treating? And even if it wasn’t, this year had stolen so much from so many of them. Would we dare let it steal such a popular holiday tradition from them as well?

To my knowledge, plenty of kids and families went out and just tried to socially distance themselves. A good chunk of Halloween costumes involve masks, and even then, adults everywhere came up with interesting tools and systems to drop candy without having to be too near.

In this utterly surreal and upsetting year, it was one of the few times I can recall feeling like people actually came together and tried to make something work while still being smart and safe. And it gives me some hope, because I think that’s ultimately what successful parenting is all about: support, compassion, and community.

Fear is best combated by the knowledge that you aren’t alone; that you aren’t the only one who cares. For as much or as little as you have personally experienced, it’s good to seek the wisdom of others who have been down your path before. People of all kinds are all too happy to dispense advice, sometimes without you even having asked for it, but the best, I have found, comes from those who practice what they preach, or else are fine with admitting to their own imperfection.

I am almost a month away from my due date now, and it has been a rollercoaster of emotions and body changes. There were things I expected ahead of time, and other things I could not have known until experiencing them firsthand. There has been a lot of

joy and anticipation, but also stress, depression, exhaustion; general frustration at the aches and pains and limitations that come with growing a human being from scratch.

And then, to top it all off, grappling with guilt at those less than “sunshiny” feelings, sometimes provoked by even the kindest, most well-meaning people. The guilt that motherhood “should be the happiest and most magical time of my life,” but often isn’t. The guilt of being able to conceive, when I know so many people who either struggle to do the same or can’t at all. The guilt of feeling like an imposition on those who help me, and constantly worrying that they are getting tired of doing so, but are too polite to say it.

And also knowing that my husband sometimes keeps his own complicated, yet completely valid feelings quiet, simply because he doesn’t want to overburden me. I am the one doing the heavy lifting here, after all. But the truth is: I’ve made it the farthest by being open with people, leaning on their support and being open with my own in turn. Vulnerability is hard for a lot of people, especially men, but when it’s with the right people, it comes with the gift of true love, true connection; bonds that will fight every attempt that life will make to break them.

I wear my heart on my sleeve, and sometimes I feel really bad about that, but at the same time, I know I don’t have to do this all on my own. I have family and friends who would not let me, my husband, or my child starve in the streets if we were to fall into dire straits. It’s a tremendous privilege, one that I know many people don’t have, but it can be achieved with time, especially when you seek out the right people.

If you are a parent or expecting to be one soon, but don’t know where to start, you can find community in all sorts of places. Join a church, volunteer, get involved at your local community center. Pursue a hobby or goal-related class and bond with the people you meet there. I have a friend who became a knitter in the last half decade or so, and she’s learned a lot while meeting a ton of new people, all sharing tips, tricks, techniques, and stories together.

Financial support is also crucial, and while it can be harder to find, you never know when someone you’ve met and befriended can help you themselves, or even just point you in the right direction. In the absence of living or healthy family relationships, look for inperson and online support groups; whatever is most accessible. The right ones can become your family, and prove invaluable in tough times.

Everyone has heard the expression “blood is thicker than water,” but it’s actually been a victim of the telephone game, believe it or not. Originally, it was “the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” meaning that the bonds that we form by choice can be just as strong, if not stronger, than those in which we happen to be born. Parenting can be, and often is, an act of love. It can be one even when parents struggle and stumble and barely hold things together. But it’s also good to remember that mothers and fathers are not innately perfect, and their love doesn’t have to be any more powerful or true than any other kind of love out there.

Love and family can look different to different people, but the success of families of all kinds depends on their willingness to care for one another. Despite my own anxieties, insecurities, and doubts, deep down I know that my family will be just fine.