Why Failing at Becoming a Mother is the Worst Thing

Once again, I find myself in the infertility trenches of the two week wait. Today, I indulged in a deep lamenting cry. It was a good release, and brought to the surface a revelation about myself.

Beyond the desire to be a mother for all the obvious reasons, I realized that it’s bigger than that, and failing at it is even bigger.

I have a lot of regrets about the decisions I’ve made in my life. I don’t really blame myself; I know I was just doing what I thought was a good idea at the time and I was surviving a tumultuous childhood and all that, but there’s seriously a lot I would go back and change.

I would have taken college seriously the first time around. I would have chosen a good career path and focused on it instead of getting wrapped up in the drama of whatever stupid guy was treating me badly. I think it comes from not valuing myself or thinking I was worth the effort. A lot of things can be traced back to poor self-esteem.

I would have chosen better people to be around, built long-lasting friendships, made decisions for only myself. I would have spent more time with myself, nurturing and developing who I am. But I was terrified to be alone. I prioritized following my heart, which sounds like a good thing, but it was because I needed love and validation. If I could go back and redo the last twenty years, I know I could build a great life for myself.

People always say, “But then you wouldn’t be who you are now or have had the experiences you had.” That’s true, but I would have traded a lot of them for better and more fulfilling experiences.

At the same time I, in no way, regret meeting Alex. He is the absolute saving grace, the “how the fuck did that even happen” result of everything that happened. He is, honestly, the best thing about my life and the smartest decision I ever made. I know that things could not have gone another way and we still would have met.

But reality and alternate reality aside, the thing that makes failing to become a mother especially hard is that now I love who I am, who I have become and I am making amazing decisions for myself and my life. And the most joyful one of all was the decision to become a mother.

I had not previously made that decision; I was never 100% sure that I wanted to have children. But the love I share with Alex made me want to build a family with him and to parent a child with him more than anything.

This decision represents so much for me; moving on from the parts of my past that I’m not proud of, reinventing myself as a person by taking on the most important role, doing something incredible by creating a human and nurturing a loving life for them. It is all so amazing, and a goal I thought was attainable.

So the fact that I can’t seem to become a mother after surviving everything, after finally getting here, and having the life I want and then working harder at it than I have ever worked at anything?

Absolutely soul-crushing.