Non-Mother's Day

I was never really convinced that I believed in unicorns until I hit my 30s and became one. Brace yourself; I have things to say about this.

First of all, Happy Mother’s Day to all who are mothers of any kind; humans, cats, inanimate objects, whatever. Every year at this time I thought it was cute to post on social media about “Non-mother’s Day” and how I managed to make it another year without getting knocked up. I thought it was funny; full disclosure, I was also conflicted about it. Truth is, I have longed in my heart to become a mother from as far back as I can remember. I had to be in damn near middle school before I stopped carrying around my little brown baby doll, pretending to be her momma. 

So how did I become some kind of anomaly? How is it that trying to make deliberate life choices as a young person lead me to a point where I question if motherhood will ever even happen at all? People think because I am approaching 32, that I don’t have kids because I don’t want them. To say that assumption is inaccurate is an epic understatement.  

My mother, Mrs. Independent, raised us with… wait for it… an independence mindset. It was always stressed in my household: books before boys. Watching our father struggle with a drug addiction for several years, which left momma struggling to hold our family together, bound my sister and my impressionable years. We were non-verbally drilled with the concept of achieving a career and being self-sufficient before entertaining the thought of a family. After all, I needed to be able to take care of myself in the event that man/husband/baby daddy decided one day that he wanted drugs, the street, other women, etc. more than he wanted me. Being the boy crazy chick that I’ve always been, I managed to try to secure both; one excelled astronomically over the other (obviously).

I live very intentionally. I am one of the more calculated people that you may ever meet, so timing and order mean a lot to me. I thought that the “right way” was the only way. First comes career, and then love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage. As I age, I am learning that my thought pattern is not a reality for most, and I am seeing that other people are more receptive to creating life with someone than they are to marry them. They are almost weirded out by the idea of marrying the person they procreated with. I am confused by this concept.

I have entertained thoughts about having a baby on my own terms. By that I mean, have a friend sign a contract and go half on a baby with me. At that point in time, my desire to be a mother outweighed my desire to be a wife. Now my desire is for it to happen when God wants it to happen. And while I am not thrilled about the term “geriatric pregnancy”, what is meant for my future will come to fruition in the exact right time, regardless of it happening under MY ideal conditions.

And though I owe no one an explanation on the way I have lived my life thus far, here’s the deal: I have used my time to situate myself in such a fashion that I will be the most financially and mentally prepared to become a mother as I will ever be. I have learned who I am as a person. I know the value of hard work and hustle. I have planned for this. I have cried for it. I have worked my butt off for it in so many ways. I have prayed for it. I was literally built for it. 

It is insensitive to ask people about the usage of our uteruses. It is a sensitive subject. One should not be shamed for having their babies early in life, or for having them late. There is enough pressure on us from our own biological clock, families, comparing to friends on social media, society. Do you understand how frequently we are asked, “Don’t you want kids?” or “Why don’t you have any babies?”. 

To all the women who share my sentiments and confliction on the matter, to those who feel a twinge of resentment or sadness when someone wishes you a Happy Mother’s Day; I see you, I feel you. You’re not alone. And this season of your life is meant to prepare you for your future, whether it is mothering your own flesh or someone else’s who might be in need. 

Here I am at 31; no kids, no significant other. But that doesn’t define me, what I have to offer, or what I have accomplished. It doesn’t make my life any less significant or happy than anyone else’s. This season of my life is of hope, optimism, and hopefully lots and lots of money. 

:P