Mommy bloggers give me the creeps. As a publicist, I frequently engage with these types of blogs, and I know more about their children than I care to admit. I can tell you which trendy baby moccasins are a must-have for little feet that seem to have a knack for kicking off expensive shoes. I’ve perfected the art of crafting DIY bow ties, despite never having a little boy to adorn with them. I even know how to dress like a supermodel just hours after childbirth—just in case that becomes essential knowledge.
However, it’s not their remarkable domestic skills that unsettle me; it’s the sheer depth of love they have for their kids. They seem to adore their children so much—so unbelievably much—that they are compelled to write, post, tweet, and proclaim to the universe every minor detail of their lives.
Currently, I’m pregnant, and while I already feel a strong connection to my baby, I’m not quite ready to skip through a meadow singing about it, Sound of Music style, and sharing weekly baby-bump updates. Instead, I find myself indulging in countless Netflix episodes, munching on cookies, and anxiously eyeing the to-do list that seems to multiply as I prepare to welcome a new life. It’s hard not to compare myself to these blogging powerhouses of maternal enthusiasm.
During this pregnancy, a nagging question has been hovering over me: Will I become a mommy blogger once my baby arrives? Writing is my profession, after all. Will my love for my child become so overwhelming that she will transform into my sole muse, inspiring blog posts about our zoo adventures, complete with coupons I’ve scoured the internet for? (You can also get the coupon if you follow these 17 simple steps.) Will I flood Instagram with adorable photos of her in various poses and flower crowns, making everyone else feel like their lives and kids just don’t measure up? (Public Service Announcement: Can we please stop with the flower crowns and overly staged photos?)
What kind of profound love drives people to do all this? I’ve never felt it, and I’m not sure I’m ready to. I love my husband deeply—immensely. Yet I don’t spend hours making cute accessories for him or snapping photos of him in them. I adore my dog as well, but I don’t commemorate his monthly milestones with a sticker and a photo shoot detailing his daily activities, which mainly consist of licking himself and chewing a tennis ball. I know that the love for a baby will be different, stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced, and… it terrifies me.
My therapist would probably say I fear this new love because I realize that love can also lead to loss (she would also remind me to relax). Babies, like everything in life, are not guaranteed. There’s no assurance my child will be healthy, happy, or live to a ripe old age. This uncertainty makes love feel like a risk, and parenthood amplifies that risk exponentially. It’s difficult for me to fathom how one can love someone so intensely while also facing the potential of losing them. How do others navigate that emotional tightrope? It’s a mystery to me. I know countless mothers manage it, but whatever resilience they possess, I clearly lack.
I’m also curious about when this overwhelming love will manifest. I already love my daughter, but I suspect it will be an entirely different experience when she’s in my arms. Will I be flooded with joy and devotion at that moment? Or will it slowly unfold, hitting its peak when she smiles at me for the first time? Right now, I’m just staring at my expanding belly while shoving chips in my mouth to keep the nausea at bay, and I don’t yet feel the rush of maternal joy. Is that normal? Is anything about pregnancy normal? Am I already failing as a mother for expressing these feelings? These questions are endless.
Pregnancy, it seems, is a time filled with more questions than answers. Medical professionals don’t even have a complete understanding of what’s happening in my uterus. And let’s not even discuss Dr. Google, whose search results can convince you that you’re dealing with everything from pregnancy-induced cancer to the possibility of birthing a three-headed child based solely on the color of your nipples.
Eventually, I’ll have to surrender to this uncertainty, to the knowledge that everything is out of my control and in a higher power’s hands. I must accept that this pregnancy is real, that I am already a mother, and that I’m about to encounter a love I’ve never known before. But I can trust that it will be okay. In fact, it will likely be amazing. I will remain myself and not morph into a caricature of a mom who runs product giveaways for household items. I’ll continue being me—just with a precious little sidekick to share life’s adventures, whether I choose to blog about them or not. Right? Is that correct? Perhaps I should check out some mommy blogs for further guidance.
In Conclusion
Navigating the waters of pregnancy and impending motherhood can be overwhelming, filled with questions and uncertainties. Embrace the journey, trust the process, and remember that you are not alone in your feelings.
Keyphrase: mommy bloggers fears
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