My journey through pregnancy has been anything but smooth. During my first trimester, I battled relentless morning sickness that lingered well into the afternoon. By the time I reached my second trimester, I was grappling with debilitating migraines — a daily struggle. To top it off, my husband and I made the monumental decision to relocate from our cherished home in Denver to Houston during this tumultuous time. I left my job, feeling like a part of my identity was slipping away, and I was spiraling out of control with 20 weeks still ahead in my first pregnancy.
Then came the revelation: I was having a daughter.
While I had claimed that the gender didn’t matter, deep down, I did — I had always envisioned a son. The thought of having a girl filled me with anxiety. I feared, no, I was petrified, of becoming my mother.
My mom was a stay-at-home parent who adored me and my sibling, but her controlling nature and emotional distance left a mark. She seldom offered hugs, and we never engaged in those classic “mother-daughter” bonding activities. She fixated on our diets, often refusing to buy our favorite foods after we’d finished them, and she didn’t decorate for holidays, insisting it was a hassle to take everything down afterward.
Although I’m not the same person as my mom, I find myself echoing some of her traits: I struggle with food choices (if it’s not “healthy,” I often skip it), I can be controlling (believing I always know best), and I’ve worked hard to become more emotionally open as an adult.
Now, as I prepare to welcome my daughter, I’m determined not to repeat my mother’s mistakes. I refuse to monitor her eating habits or criticize her body. I won’t dictate her choices or belittle her aspirations. Most importantly, I’m filled with apprehension.
Despite this awareness giving me some power to break the cycle, I still feel overwhelmed. The knowledge that being an exceptional mom requires tremendous effort weighs heavily on me. I’m anxious about the possibility of transitioning from antepartum depression to postpartum depression.
So, here’s my promise to my soon-to-arrive daughter: I love you deeply and will always protect you. I want you to grow into a strong, self-trusting woman. I want you to feel cherished. I promise to hug you every day, even when you’re a moody teenager. I will dedicate myself to ensuring you never feel inadequate; I will certainly decorate for holidays and explore the world with you. I will love you fiercely.
Understanding that I don’t have to follow in my mother’s footsteps is a crucial first step towards becoming the mother I aspire to be.
For those considering parenthood and seeking information on fertility options, you might find our post on at-home insemination kits interesting, or check out this excellent resource on treating infertility.
In summary, while the journey to motherhood can be fraught with fears and challenges, the commitment to breaking generational patterns and creating a loving environment is both empowering and essential.