Moving past my resistance and fear of Motherhood
Jumping into the big unknown, healing, and finding my twins.
Hello there.
Let me introduce myself. I’m an Arab woman living in the Middle East, raised (mostly) in the Arab world. Depending on where you’re from, that might mean all sorts of different things.
To me, I see myself as independent, strong-willed, determined to get things her way, and a person that craves travel, adventure, and meeting new people. So as you can see, I don’t naturally identify with very motherly characteristics and wasn’t always sure that I wanted to have children.
Of course, in Arab culture, it still is taboo for a woman, or a man for that matter, to even question if they wanted children or not. Ever since I was a teenager, I craved the companionship of marriage, but I never quite knew what to feel about having kids.
I’ve been learning recently that yes, there are actually other Arab women who have felt or feel the same way, and some choose not to have children. I have been through the pressure that any brave woman who’s made that decision has gone through, and I cannot imagine a lifetime of that.
Resistance and Fear
I couldn’t pinpoint where my resistance to being a mother was coming from for a very long time. Whenever I would talk about it with someone openly, my reasons never really scratched the surface.
Yes, being a mother is taxing; it’s a lot of hard work, both emotionally and physically. I thought pregnancy would feel like an alien takeover of my body, and like most women, I was completely terrified of birth.
After what I thought would be a traumatizing experience (birth), you are responsible for this human being for the rest of your life. All that sounds like solid reasons to avoid pregnancy at all costs, right?
But I knew deep down; there was more to it for me personally. Deep-rooted fears and anxieties beyond childbirth. I knew that was true because every time I would talk about it with my husband, I would start crying. It triggered me, and I couldn’t pinpoint where it had come from. Not until I started doing some therapy and healing work around this.
Wanting to explore where my anxiety was coming from coincided with reading This Is Your Brain on Birth Control by Dr. Sarah Hill, and by the time I finished, I had decided I was done with the pill.
I had been on it for five years, and I could not wrap my head around how a doctor would prescribe it to me without discussing all the potential side effects. I actually think my doctor — and most doctors for that matter — don’t even know the whole list of side effects that could occur because of the pill or any other hormonal birth control.
So cue March 2020, right when our worlds were turned upside down, I stopped my birth control.
Feeling, Healing & Letting Go
Naturally, this triggered the conversation of babies. My husband, bless him, got on board and supported me with all the crying, soul searching, and healing of all the fears I had — and still have sometimes — around being a mother.
What I found from the therapy sessions I had done around this was eye-opening in understanding how my subconscious perceives motherhood.
My idea of a mother’s role and how to be a mother came from my mom. She comes from a generation of women who couldn’t study beyond high school, although she is very bright and would have excelled at anything she studied. Instead, after high school, she started working as a secretary and did that job for 8 years until my father’s career took precedent over hers, and we moved to the US. She became a full-time mom who lost herself in taking care of us. A big part of her identity is her as a mother, and she still worries day and night about all five of her adult children and every detail of our lives.
So to me, this translated as the only mother I can be is the mother that loses her sense of self for the sake of her children, and that is terrifying.
Another element that I had been carrying around unknowingly was the story of my maternal great-grandmother. The only detail of her life that made its way down to my awareness as a little girl was that she died giving birth to my grandmother. My subconscious had internalized the pain of that sacrifice on her behalf and the pain my grandmother must’ve lived through, knowing her mother died giving birth to her.
Although if my grandmother had felt any guilt or pain, I don’t remember ever seeing it. Her name was Grace, and she lived up to her name in every way possible.
Processing this and making it conscious helped me come closer to the concept of motherhood, although I found out I was still anxious about getting pregnant, and I wanted to control every part of the process that I could.
I also had to let go of my anxiety and my attempts to control the process. I had gotten it in my head that we would get pregnant in September to have a June baby. It was my way of controlling what was absolutely beyond my control. Fixating on the idea of having a “June Baby” meant there was something I could do, manage and control about the process.
As many of you probably know, pregnancy usually doesn’t happen according to schedule, so of course, when I didn’t get pregnant in September (2020), I was frustrated with my body, frustrated with the idea of having a baby, ready to give up on the whole thing.
Then, a few months later, I realized I was late. Five days late. So on December 30th, 2020, we found out I was pregnant.
And then they were two.
I had just begun wrapping my head around the idea that there was a baby — no bigger than a sesame seed at first — growing inside me when we visited the doctor and found out we’re having twins (cue a facepalm and even more anxiety!)
Now I am 33 weeks in, and I am still caught by surprise when I think about it. Having two babies growing inside me, feeling their kicks, squirms, and weight have helped, but I still stop and have to wrap my head around it. That very soon, I will have two babies out in the world. I don’t understand the wisdom of giving us twins, but I definitely see the irony!
Many, many days and nights have been spent with me panicking, feeling like I’m not in control, and wanting to check so many things off of my own personal bucket list before I transform into this being known as Mama. The one thing I ache for more than anything else is to travel. To pack up and go somewhere new for a week, on a whim, without any planning. As far as I can tell, that is out the window, for now, which is enough to make me panic sometimes.
I’ve cried over trips not taken, the upcoming loss of freedom, and the insane unknown of caring for and raising two kids at the same time.
I’ve described it to anyone who would listen as though I’m on this cliff, about to jump off into a black hole, with no idea what will come after I take that leap. I think this feeling of leaping into a big unknown still comes from my fear of losing my identity and only being Mama. I need to accept that my life before my children (and, being honest, before COVID) is gone.
With acceptance comes moving further away from anxiety.
I decided I wanted to try for a baby for all the lessons and growth and experiences I would have as a mother. I just didn’t expect the learning and growth to begin long before my baby (or babies in this case) would be born.
For now, my husband and I are enjoying the moments of peace we get to have before the storm, which I am very grateful for while at the same time I’m trying to prepare for what is coming.
At least, I don’t feel like I’m jumping into a black hole anymore, just skydiving.
