Mommy bloggers give me the jitters. As a public relations specialist, I interact with these blogs regularly. I know the names and ages of children I’ve never met, and I can identify the trendiest baby moccasins that are somehow both adorable and prone to being kicked off. I’ve mastered the art of making DIY bow ties for little boys, despite never having a little boy of my own. And I’m well-versed in chic ways to dress like a supermodel right after giving birth, should that ever become necessary.
But it’s not the impressive skills of mommy bloggers that unsettle me; it’s the depth of love they have for their kids. They adore their children so intensely that it drives them to post every little milestone online for the world to see.
Right now, I’m expecting my own baby, and I already feel a strong bond with her. I’m thrilled by her kicks and daydream about her personality. However, I’m not inclined to skip through meadows singing about it or to post weekly baby bump updates. Instead, I find myself binge-watching Netflix, indulging in cookies, and fretting over my never-ending to-do list before this little one arrives. I can’t help but measure myself against these blogging dynamos.
As I navigate my pregnancy, I often wonder: Will I become a mommy blogger too once my baby is born? Writing is my passion, so will my daughter become my muse? Will I find myself crafting posts about our trips to the zoo, complete with discount coupons (which I’ll gladly share in 17 easy steps)? Will I be the one posting endless pictures of her in flower crowns, making everyone else’s lives feel less cute and fun? (Seriously, can we all agree to ease up on the flower crowns and those ‘candidly staged’ photo shoots?)
What kind of love drives someone to do all that? I’ve never felt it before, and it terrifies me that I might be about to. I love my husband deeply, but I don’t spend hours making cute accessories for him, nor do I take dozens of pictures of our dog with a sticker that marks his monthly milestones, highlighting his favorite pastime of chewing toys and licking himself. Of course, the love for a baby is different—new and possibly stronger than anything I’ve felt. And that thought is overwhelming.
I suspect my therapist would tell me that my fear stems from knowing that such love can also lead to heartache. Babies, like everything in life, come with no guarantees. There’s no certainty that my child will be healthy, happy, or live a long life. Parenthood amplifies the risk of love, and I struggle to understand how anyone can flourish while holding such a deep love, knowing it could also lead to profound loss. I get that moms navigate this all the time, but whatever strength they possess feels beyond my reach at the moment. It genuinely scares me to love someone that deeply—there, I said it.
I also ponder when that powerful love will truly hit me. I love my daughter now, but will it transform when she’s in my arms? Will it be an instant rush of joy and devotion, or will it unfold gradually, perhaps when I see her smile for the first time? Right now, I’m just staring at my growing belly, munching on chips to combat nausea, and I don’t yet feel an overwhelming surge of maternal happiness. Is that normal? Is anything about pregnancy really normal? Am I already a bad mom for admitting these feelings? The questions are endless.
Pregnancy seems to be a time filled with more questions than answers. Doctors sometimes don’t even fully understand what’s happening in my body. What exactly is a uterus, anyway? And don’t even get me started on Google, which can lead you down a rabbit hole convincing you that you might be developing rare conditions based on the shade of your nipples.
Eventually, I’ll need to surrender to the unknown, embracing the unpredictability of this journey and trusting that everything will be alright. I need to acknowledge that I’m already a mom and that I’m about to experience a love unlike anything I’ve known before. Somehow, I know it will be amazing. I’ll still be me, just with a delightful little sidekick to share life with, whether I decide to blog about it or not. Right? I hope I’m right about that. Maybe I should read some more mommy blogs for guidance.
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In summary, while mommy bloggers can be intimidating with their seemingly endless love and creativity, it’s okay to embrace your own journey at your own pace. Each experience is unique, and it’s perfectly normal to have mixed feelings as you navigate this new chapter.