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Letting Go of Perfection After Becoming a Mom
From as far back as I can remember, I dreamed of becoming a mother. This dream eventually morphed into an all-consuming need that dictated my choices, shaping my life plans around the idea of motherhood. Five years into a joyful marriage, I had to confront the reality that my timeline for having a baby, which I’d mapped out in my younger years, had come and gone. I must have spent a fortune on pregnancy tests, each time holding my breath and willing those elusive pink lines to appear. I thought I could manifest a baby into existence, but time kept ticking, and my body felt like it was playing hard to get.
After a couple more years, even friends and family had stopped asking when we’d start a family, as if they’d given up hope for me. Then, just two months after celebrating our seventh wedding anniversary, I received the news I had longed for: I was pregnant!
My husband and I did everything “right.” We created a nursery that would make any interior designer jealous, packed our hospital bag to perfection, and memorized all the parenting books we could find. We were ready. Or so we thought.
What followed was a gut-wrenching experience that shattered my expectations. I ended up with an E. coli infection, which I inadvertently passed to my premature son, who fought for his life in the ICU. The moment I had envisioned for 27 years turned into a heart-wrenching struggle filled with uncertainty and fear. I wasn’t prepared for the emotional rollercoaster of waiting by my newborn’s bedside during the day and entrusting him to strangers at night.
I certainly wasn’t ready for a week in the hospital or a severe allergy to the medication meant to help me recover. I hadn’t accounted for my son’s reluctance to breastfeed or his sudden colic. Nothing seemed to align with my carefully crafted plan. Where were the picture-perfect moments? Where was the instant bond I had imagined during those late-night feedings? Why was I feeling so empty even though the child I had wished for was finally here?
The truth is, I’ve felt this way before. I felt it during the rocky first year of marriage, when I thought companionship would fix everything. I felt it when I taught, thinking a noble career would fulfill me. I even felt it during the financially draining phase of homeownership, believing that status would bring satisfaction. Each time, I had unrealistic expectations about what happiness should look like. I was chasing perfection, not understanding that true joy often lies in the messy, imperfect reality of life.
Real happiness comes from recognizing that my son, against all odds, is thriving. It’s in the strength I gained from my struggles and the confidence I’ve found as a mother. It’s in the laughter and joy of raising a healthy, kind little boy. I had placed too much pressure on my son to be the answer to my longing, forgetting that he is not just a source of happiness or the embodiment of my dreams. He is wonderfully imperfect, and that’s precisely what makes him a treasure.
Letting go of the pursuit of perfection is an ongoing struggle, but it’s one worth fighting. Each time I choose to embrace reality over fantasy, I open myself up to the richness of my life. When I’m caught up in seeking perfection, I often miss the beautiful moments unfolding right before my eyes—moments I could never have dreamed up myself. I want to savor every second with my son, no matter how chaotic or beautiful it may be. I want it all.
For more insights on navigating motherhood and family planning, check out this helpful resource or learn about your options from Make a Mom, an authority in the field. If you’re looking for more support in your journey, UCSF’s Center offers excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
The journey to motherhood can be fraught with challenges and disappointments that stem from unrealistic expectations. The author reflects on her experience of pursuing perfection, only to discover that true happiness lies in embracing the imperfections of life and acknowledging the joy that comes from her son’s existence.