Is it true that unless you feel you were “made to be a mom,” that you’re not going to be good at it?

Yes, I know I’m an adult and yes, I know I am married and yes, I know where babies come from, and despite the fact that we had both talked about wanting and welcoming this next chapter, it still shocked me to find out that I am going to be a mother. 

I’ll be honest, at first—I was terrified. Part of me still is. 

To tell you the truth, the first thing I did after seeing those lines on the test was go on TikTok and search up “things to do when you find out you’re pregnant,” and “what you’re supposed to know as a first time mom,” because I didn’t know where else to look for answers. 

(Naturally, I went to the least peer-reviewed platform on earth). 

It was also extremely early in my pregnancy when I found out so I didn’t want to tell anyone yet because of all of the fear and anxiety around pregnancy, especially before your first scan. 

My husband, who has always been the more rational of the two of us, booked a doctor’s appointment for the next day. 

We both were reeling from the news—excited, emotional and scared for this new chapter we were very excited to step into but unsure of venturing into the unknown.

When we got to the doctor, I still felt borderline ashamed to admit that we were pregnant, forgetting I am not a teenager even if I felt like one.

We were 5 weeks along at the time. 

The whirlwind of emotions I felt—nausea, fear, exhaustion, excitement, often kept me up at night. (Along with pregnancy insomnia but we’ll save that for another time).

At first, it was easy to keep the secret because I hadn’t even fully processed it myself. 

My first thought was less about the baby and more about how I felt like life as I currently knew it would cease to exist.

I wouldn’t just be me anymore. 

I would also be someone’s mom. An irrevocable title that comes with the prerequisite of unconditional love, acceptance and support for a human you created—a totally small and causal feat. 

There was a secret part of me that mourned the only life I once knew—a life where each day was dictated by my own desires and needs and no one else's. 

There was also guilt I felt for thinking about that at a time like this. 

I’ve always loved kids and had a deep connection with my younger cousins, nieces and nephews, but before meeting my husband I never really imagined myself as a mom.

I knew I wanted kids one day but it wasn’t necessarily a chapter I was rushing towards. When I pictured the future I pictured the marriage, the career, the home, the dog, but seeing myself as a mother felt like a mental block for me.

Baby fever was not something I ever had, or when I felt it, it mostly related to holding other people's cute babies knowing I could give them back afterwards 

Is it true that unless you feel you were “made to be a mom,” that you’re not going to be good at it?

Strangely enough though, when I saw those lines on the pregnancy test, it felt like a puzzle piece clicked into place. It felt even more right when I told my husband we were having a baby. 

I know I am ready for this incredible blessing because of the immense gratitude I feel that it came when it did. 

But in addition to the thousands of wishes I have for my baby, I also hold so many for myself in this new chapter of life. 

There are so many ways I want to set an example for my child, including aligning myself with things that are most important to me and not to sacrifice all that I am in the name of being a good mom. 

At the beginning of my pregnancy, I also thought a lot about my goals and my career and where I see myself going in life. I reckoned with what it would look like to be a new mom who has so much she still wants to accomplish, but also wants to be fully present for my child.

As I thought more about it, however, I asked myself if it would be the worst thing in if my only contributions to the world were the love I gave and received within the confines of my own life and household.

Is my only worth as a woman dictated by what I have to show for myself in terms of conventional “productivity?”

Why is my child automatically viewed as an impediment to my growth and evolution instead of the catalyst of it?

What if the things I thought I once wanted so desperately begin to shift once my child comes into the world and teaches me more about it?

I think of all of the things I wished for my mother and the mothers of her generation—to not lose themselves in giving everything to their children, or to at least remember to save some for themselves. 

I think about the stories carried by my mother’s spine, and the way she spent her whole life easing my worries with no mention of her own. 

It fills me with gratitude to think of these things but also makes me want to teach my child the strength and resilience they were forged from, that quite literally runs in their veins. 

I don’t want to stifle the stories that built me, and by virtue, built my child. 

I don’t want “mother” to be synonymous with “martyr.”

When I think about this new role and what is needed from me in order to step into it, I am trying to remind myself that many truths can and will exist at once. 

If I continue to operate on the logic that “what is meant for me will never miss me,” then this beautiful blessing is coming at precisely the time it needed to. 

I don’t know how I’m going to be as a mom, but I want to promise myself and my child that I can’t and I won’t erase all of the things that make me “me” to show up better as a mother. 

The path that I end up on will ultimately be aligned with the life I want to live, and although that doesn’t necessarily make wrapping my head around becoming a mom any easier, I’m gaining solace in the fact that the transformation to come will give and take from me exactly what it is meant to. 

And who knows, maybe this chapter will introduce me to a new “me” entirely, one whose acquaintance I didn’t realize I was so desperate to meet. 

Either way, I can’t wait to find out.