What If?

February 5th, 2009

What if I’m not a good mom after all?

What if our child has a disease?

What if our child doesn’t grow up to love us?

What if our child doesn’t have that perfect combination of our eyes, his red hair, my curls, his diligence and my creativity?

What if I can’t potty train properly?

What if I lose my mind?

What if my kid is a pickier eater than I am?

What if parenthood exceeds my wildest expectations?

What if I forget who “I” am?

What if I lose my nice ass and my hot boobs?

What if I never sleep in again on a Saturday?

What if I never sleep again ever?

What if motherhood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?

What if I can’t teach my child to read?

What if we lose our first IVF attempt?

What If, What If, What if. These are questions that constantly plague me. Hopefully I’m not alone. More times than not I can’t wait to have a little wriggly body that calls me mom. There are times when I see how my girlfriends are exhausted, haven’t had a break in months and at their wits end – that I think, is it worth it? Maybe I’ve been given a free pass. I don’t have to endure all of this. I get to just be me, just be us. That’s not what I want though. I want to be tired, exhausted, frustrated and out of fresh ideas – the way all the good mommies I know are.

I’ve been reading Dooce.com for nearly five years, on a most-days basis. She’s irreverent, honest, real and on my level. She inspires me to write more candidly and to not think that my odd work-from-home lifestyle is, odd. She makes me want to embrace the good, bad and incredibly ugly of motherhood. This week, her little girl turned five-years-old.

Each month she writes Leta a note. A very public Internet style baby book. Exactly what I’ve always intended to do. This five-year post is why I want to be a mom. I want to realize that I can’t spell things in front of my kid. I want to realize that they are quite possibly smarter than I am. That they resemble the one person I love more than any other in the world. That they changed “the demension” of my life that I never knew possible, and for all the right reasons.

That my what-ifs turn into:

What if I can’t keep a secret anymore?

What if my baby is more beautiful than I imagined possible?

What if Shelton turns out to be the nicer parent?

What if my kid is funnier than I am?

What if parenthood exceeds my wildest expectations?