Waiting For Daisy

Note:  This is a tough post. It's also long. Thank you in advance for reading and supporting me.

I have been spending more time lately than I'd like to admit Waiting for Daisy...

Ever since I can remember, I have wanted to be a mom. I never questioned whether or not this would be possible. I took for granted that this experience would be mine someday. 

When I asked my Dad if he remembers me wanting to be a mom, he says that almost as far back as he can remember I have wanted to be a mom. My best friend, Jeannine, says that becoming a mom was always very much a part of who I was, and who I still am.  Most of my friends know that I want to be a mom, but in truth I've shared very little about how much I'm struggling with the possibility that this dream may not come true. I've done a lot of crying.

Since getting sick, I've had a lot of time to think about what I want in this life, including becoming a mother. I have had time to think about why I want to be a mother. I have had time to ask the really hard questions about motherhood.  I have watched my friends become mothers. I have talked to my mom a lot about the choices we make as women when we decide to become mothers.

I remember sitting out on the front stoop of the apartment Jeannine and I rented in 2001. I remember saying to my mom that I knew that I was never going to 'have it all' in the ways that I had imagined--career and family.  I knew that I came from a family that valued success in career and academics, but I also knew in that moment that my life had forever changed. My priorities had changed. If I had a choice, I said, I would choose to be a mom over having a career. This statement has been met only with love and understanding from my parents, as what they want most for me is what makes me happy.

I do not have an idealized picture of motherhood. I have talked honestly and openly about it with my own mother, and with other mothers. I have questioned whether or not I really want to be a mother and why.

Knowing all that I know, knowing how incredibly difficult it is, I still want to be a mom.

But I never want to be a mom without knowing that I am giving a child the best I possibly can. I do not want to bring a child into the world knowing that I can't take care of myself, more or less another human being. I would never get pregnant if Lyme specialists thought that my Lyme could be passed to my child in utero. I will not become a mother if I cannot provide the emotional, financial and social support needed to raise a child. 

I also want to keep my heart open to children coming into my life through other avenues such as adoption or marrying a man who already has children. 

No matter how I become a mom--whether biologically or through adoption--I will be overjoyed at being a mom.  

I will accept children with open arms however they come into my life. I know this. But there is still a part of me that has always wanted to have a biological child, to experience pregnancy and childbirth, to breast feed, and to create a life with someone I love. I mean, I took a whole seminar on childbirth in college--and even got up for that 8:30 a.m elective course!

Each year since turning 30, I have been keenly aware of that wonderful thing called the biological clock. And mine is ticking. That thought makes my stomach churn. 

I went to the gynecologist last week for my annual appointment. I did not ask for advice on having children, but I got an earful anyways. My gynecologist, without prompting, told me that I had so many factors, including age, working against me that I would likely never have children. She told me that my body could not take the stress of pregnancy, labor and delivery. 

First, I didn't ask about getting pregnant. I'm not in a relationship or in a position to get pregnant. I did not ask for her opinion of what the future might hold. When did it become her place to take away my hope? When did women become 'expired' at 33? When did it become her place to tell me I had better consider adoption and fostering a child instead? 

Honestly, if this blog, if this topic, had not already been at the forefront of my mind more than I'd like to admit, I could have more easily shrugged off her statements. But because they came so out of the blue and so unsolicited, I found myself back to thinking about, well, babies.

So, what is this "Waiting for Daisy" part of things? 

Waiting for Daisy is a book written by a woman who endured six years of fertility treatments before becoming pregnant. Later, she wished that she had been able to enjoy her life as it was rather than waiting for her happiness. She wished, as my friend Tess wrote, that she could have told herself, "This is your life, whatever happens." Not "This is your life, but only if you have a baby."

When Tess visited me over a year ago she asked me if I felt that I had 'lost' my life to this illness.  She asked me this question based on the book Waiting for Daisy.  At that time, I said, with great assurance that the time I have spent sick has not been lost. It has been very, very difficult, but it has also shaped me into who I am today.

What has happened to the assurance with which I answered Tess a little over a year ago? 

I have fallen into that very negative and dark place of wanting a baby so badly that I cannot see out of it. In some ways I'm embarrassed and ashamed to admit this. I'm also scared.  Most of my friends are mothers of small children and some are currently pregnant. 

I hate myself when I feel anger, jealousy or envy at the news of a pregnancy or when I see photos of babies. I LOVE my friends' children. I have come to love these children, even from afar. I bask in being an aunt to David. I'm afraid that by writing this blog, my friends will try to protect me and stop telling me as much about motherhood and their children. Let me state right now that this is the last thing I want to happen! I want to be a part of you and your children's lives...it's me that has to figure out how to be better at this all.

A large part of what has sent me into 'hibernation' lately and left me much less social, is that I'm trying to find a way to regroup. I'm trying to find a way out of this obsession with only seeing my life as meaningful if I am married and a mother. 

I'm also trying to figure out how one finds the balance between holding onto dreams and letting them go. How do we decide when it's time to let a dream go? How do we, while holding onto a dream, still live our lives to the fullest? If we can't have the dream we want the very most in the whole world, how do we re-frame our life? How do we live a meaningful life in spite of whatever happens? How do we let go enough to just 'wait and see' if the dream unfolds or not?And accept whatever happens?

I know on a deep level that I will and can be happy whether I have children or not, whether I marry or not. I know that I have much to give and many passions. But sometimes, it's very hard to stop those little voices once they start. I know that I will make my life meaningful whether I become a mom or not.

Still, what I needed to hear the other day at the doctor's office was this: "When the time comes to talk about becoming a mother, we'll discuss the options." I did not need someone to make a decision for me that was, at this point, not based on facts. 

When I got home, I asked my mom if she wanted me to give up the dream of becoming a mother. I thought, perhaps, what the gynecologist had said to me would be a relief to friends and family. Had she simply said to me what they felt they could not? Instead, my friends (okay, I've only told two people!), Mom, and Dad have been outraged. Both my mom and dad have said that it was not her place to try to take away my hope or to even approach the subject, since I had not asked about it.

I don't know how to walk this very difficult line. I don't know how to always feel joyful for my friends when I find out they are pregnant. I don't know how to be free of jealousy and envy. I don't know how to not want to be a mother. I don't know how yet, to live a life that doesn't include the possibility of becoming a mother. I don't know how not to feel incredible grief and sadness as each year passes and I am no closer to realizing this dream.

What I do know is that I do not want to spend my time feeling like I do now. I want to enjoy my friend's children completely and fully, without bitterness or envy. I want to embrace their joys and their sorrows with open arms.  I want to be David's favorite aunt, and his mother's best friend. I want to keep 'practicing being a mom' with Miss Alexandra (her words, not mine!). I want to enjoy children the way I always did before I thought I couldn't become a mother--which was fully, openly and joyfully. I want to open my heart back up to children, rather than close it off because I am afraid I will never have a child of my own. 

And yes, I still want to be a mom more than anything in this world. 

But while I'm waiting for Daisy, I want to figure out how to live the most meaningful life I possibly can.  I don't want to look back and say that I waited to be happy. 

Blessings, 

Emily

P.S. I realize that this is a really tough blog to read and to receive. I wrote it because I felt that until I shared how I really felt, I would not be able to move past this. I also know that I need your help and understanding as I grieve and find my way.  I have been holding this in for way too long now, and I've been a poorer friend for it. 

P.P.S. Please don't stop telling me about your beautiful children or sending me your pictures! :)

Photo:  Okay, so I realize this is not a picture of a daisy!  It's a pansy.  But these are the hardiest darned pansies I've ever seen.  We've had several frosts and the pansies are still alive! Everything else has died from the frosts. I guess I saw these little flowers in our yard as little fighters telling me to keep dreams alive.