As I write this first blog about "my motherhood", I have a toddler climbing on my back saying "ooh ooh ahh ahh" bc she thinks she is a monkey at 7:45 in the morning....exactly!

I guess I knew I wanted to be a mother when I was 17 years old. Tell me this didn't drive my mother to the edge of hysterics?! I was in love with my first long-term/serious boyfriend and as we contemplated first sex, I asked myself if I could handle the possible consequences. What would we do if I got pregnant. I decided quickly that I would have the baby. Would I keep it? Could I be a mother now? Did I even WANT to be a mother at all? The answer was a quick and clear, Yes.

This is not an episode of "Teem Mom", thank the Lord, so clearly I was not an idiot that thought the worst could never apply to myself. Before we even had the first-sex conversation I made myself an appointment at Planned Parenthood and started a decade of daily pills. See, mom, you raised me well! Luckily those pills and condoms worked 100% for me until I didn't want them to anymore.

Fast forward to my 2nd year out of college. I am working as a preschool teacher in private setting, teaching 3-5 year olds. I hate my job. I love teaching young children, preschool especially. I hate where I work. It sold me on a motto of being child-centered. It wasn't. It was ridiculous and they had it out for me-like, for real. However, I love the kids....well, let's be honest, I LIKE all the kids (but one....I really can't stand one), but I LOOOOOOOVE one. His name was Grayson. He was three and he was my little lap cat. He was obsessed with me, almost to a fault, but not in my eyes. He wouldn't nap unless it was me rubbing his back. He wanted me to put his shoes on to go outside and me to help him build his block tower. It was a mutual love. While I worked here, I was also going to graduate school so one day a week I had to leave early for class. Grayson was usually picked up before I had to leave early (I usually worked 7-6 (i'm totally serious), but on these days I left at 5). On one particular day, his mom was running late and I had to leave. He stood at the glass door of the classroom with his pudgy little hands on the glass and tears streaming down his face begging me not to leave... i turned around and went back in. Now, I'm not saying that I am heartless in my role as teacher, however, we are sort of trained to be able to see a child in stress and think, "so sorry, but you will be fine in 2 minutes and be back to playing". For one reason or another, I couldn't do that to this boy. My mind just wouldn't go there. My uterus panged seeing him like that....and I knew. I was ready to be a mother.

The shitness of it was that I was only 24 and not even married yet! So I shrugged it off...

Matt and I were married 2 months later and I left that job. THANK GOD! I taught special education in public school from that point on and loved it. It was where I was meant to be and so it is where I stayed. Loving those kids and what I did everyday allowed me to push off loving children of my own until Matt was ready. And then one day, he was.

The shitness of THAT was he was ready one day, and my father dropped dead the next. Out of the blue. One February afternoon (the day before the 100th day of Kindergarten). Just. Gone. And so was the floor underneath my feet.

It was a year before I started to feel solid ground and we decided to start trying. I went off the pill and went on a cruise with my mom and sister and drank...a bunch. Had to get that out of my system before the games began. And they did begin. We were so excited!

The shitness of that was it went on for a month. And then I took Brady, our golden retriever, for a walk in the neighborhood and when I let him off leash, he ran to catch up to me and ran right through me, flipping me and breaking my arm in 2 places and shattering my wrist.

Welcome to the excruciating experience of deep bone pain (there is NOTHING like it, not even labor!) in the ER for HOURS without pain meds because they asked if there was a possibility I could be pregnant...are you freaking-kidding me?! Yes for the first time in my life. YES. F my life right now.

Finally the nurse comes in and delivers the news that she is sorry, I am not pregnant. My response, "awesome! give me drugs". And she did. I also got a sedation and bone set, an orthopedic specialist, a surgery, lots of other drugs, short-term disability leave, physical therapy, two ridiculous scars, an infection in my thumb, a thumb surgery, more drugs and continued physical therapy....

6 months later, I am off the drugs, back at work, done with physical therapy, still in pain with only 75% range of motion in my wrist, but I'm ready. Let's do this already!