Perhaps it is much easier to talk about a fertile mindset than to truly sink down into one.
Lately I am finding that although I take the proper steps, walk the proper walk, there is a deep part of me that is really questioning whether I can be . . . a mother.
In my outer world I am a confident woman. I am a strong woman. I am an intelligent woman. I am a capable woman. I am a determined woman. I pretty much have it all together.
Yet what is on the outside does not always match what is on the inside. When I am truly, truly honest with myself I find a well of self-doubt and fear underneath that tough exterior.
Most recently I realized that although every step I take is leading me to healing, what is deep down on the inside is still quite ill at ease.
I mean really, can I be a good mother? Could I deal with a mid-shopping temper tantrum? Would I still keep my sense of self when immersed with an all-encompassing other? Will I still be able to find time to be “me” when my title changes from individual, from woman, from wife, to only mother?
I know we are not supposed to speak these fears out loud. As women struggling with fertility we are only supposed to serve our eggs sunny side up.
However, am I the only one who deep down carries fear of just what all these hopes coming to reality would usher in?
None of this is to say that my deepest desire is still not to mother. I suppose it is simply to say that on the inside, I’m a little scared.
I am scared that I will fail at this monumental lifetime task. I am afraid that I will end up in a marriage all-consumed by a child, and disconnected from my partner with whom I started it all.
I am afraid that if I truly believe my body can do this, I will be setting myself up for total demise if it fails.
Fears, so many fears—I am the choo choo train chugging up the steep hill with one thought in mind, or so I had convinced myself–I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.
But . . . do I really think I can?