This post deals with suicide and might be triggering for some readers.
I never wanted to be a mum.
As a teenager, I vowed I’d get my tubes tied at 18. Of course, then I didn’t know it would be impossible to find a board-certified doctor who would actually perform a tubal ligation on a teenage girl. But I was persistent. I wouldn’t budge. I wasn’t going to procreate.
"You’ll change your mind," women would tell me. Which only made me angrier, even defiant to prove them wrong.
Watch: Things people who don't want kids always hear. Post continues below.
I never thought the normal route of marriage and homeownership was on the cards for me.
I’d daydream of bouncing around the world, a vagabond with no real home.
I wasn’t meant to settle down; I was meant to live free and go where the wind goes.
Motherhood and marriage? All of that just seemed way too provincial for me. I wanted to be a writer and an adventurer. Settling to the standards of adulthood gave me literal heart palpitations.
While I’m no Joanna Gaines, I do own a renovated fixer-upper in Texas. In between my freelance gigs, I make weekly meal menus, make my husband lunch, and I take care of our six-month-old daughter. I’ve become a master at juggling our life.
Teenage me would have thought I was the epitome of a life lost.
Finding out I was pregnant with our daughter shocked me. I was frozen in fear when the little stick I peed on said YES+.
While I had a gut feeling I was pregnant, I had secretly hoped I wasn’t. I wasn’t ready to give up on the world and become a mum. I wasn’t ready to give up weekly happy hours and BBQs at friends' houses. I wasn’t ready to stop drinking. I wasn’t ready for a lot.
I sat on the bed as my husband held me.
I stared at the grooves in our wooden bedroom door. I never noticed so many swirls and knots before. I just stared into them. He was saying something to me along the lines of it being okay, we’ll get through this, etc, etc.