Monday, September 29, 2008

Club Motherhood

I used to think I'd have my two kids, my big house, and my high-paying career by the time I was 30. But at 33, I'm 0 for 3.

Okay, it's not that bad. I'm married to a wonderful amazing thoughtful guy, I've travelled and seen some amazing sites, I've moved around and lived in some beautiful cities, I've quit my job to write a novel, I've followed my dream of becoming a screenwriter, and I've been to Hollywood and had meetings with well known producers and directors.

In some ways, it's better than the life I once imagined. But still, when I look around at all the happy moms browsing baby stores with their high tech strollers and matching designer diaper bags -- I long to be one of them. I long to join the conversation, tag along on play dates, and be part of the exclusive club called motherhood.

Instead, I sit alone at my table, sipping a Starbucks latte, typing on a laptop, and longingly looking over at the women bonding over their shared experiences. An outsider eavesdropping in on a club she doesn't have the secret handshake to. An awkward teenager forced to eat lunch by themselves while all the cool kids crowd around the fun table. Up until now, I've been the cool kid. I've been the one at the table with everyone else. I've never known what it's like to feel left out -- until now. I used to imagine what it would be like when I was a mom. All the other moms and I would hang out together. We'd let our kids play together. We'd drink coffee and wine and brag and complain and gossip and solve all the worlds problems. We'd take our kids to the beach. We'd organize spa days and girls nights out and we'd bond over our similar lives of juggling work and kids and love. We'd have couple's nights and outdoor barbeques. We'd organize carpools. We'd watch our kids soccer games together and cheer and bring snacks for the whole gang. We'd rent cottages, and organize camping trips. We'd roast marshmellows over a fire-pit. We'd laugh, and cry, and lean on each other through all life's up and down's as our children grow up. We'd be the best of friends....

And then, I snap back to reality. I take a sip of my lukewarm latte, and I wonder if that will ever be me? I wonder if one day I'll be awarded the secret handshake and be invited to sit at the fun table?
I wonder if I'll ever be part of the exclusive club called motherhood?

I sure hope so.


Nikki said...

The secret handshake, the password that was not sent to us. Yes - I know how that feels!

I'm slowly but unfortunately changing my "dream" vision to one where it is DH, our dog and me. I hate to do it, but it's happening. The other vision breaks my heart.

I hope your dream comes true soon! I'm 37, trying to hold on to the days as they fly past and chug me closer to 38, and further away from being a mom!

Anonymous said...

Hi Lisa,

My mom, Mary Anne Heath, told me about your blog and I have been reading it for the past week. Every time I log on, I say a pray to the fertility gods, okay, I am not that religious, but I send up a little pray that you hit the jackpot in the baby department. You are correct, in the the fact, that no one talks about infertility. Thank you for sharing it all. The bad, the ugly, and the uglier. I am probably one of many people who read your blog but don't respond. I am thinking of you. You have lots of people on your team. Many behind the scenes, far away, me.

Amy C.

Anonymous said...

Lisa, I was on the forum and then just read this post, and believe you me, I am dying to be one of those women too and had the same "perfect 30" idealistic portrait in my head-I'm 2 for 3 so far I'd say with a great DH and love my career and home! It WILL happen, someway, somehow, you are on your way to motherhood no matter which path you take. I wish we lived in the same city bc I too am one of those lonely Starbucks sippers :) LGB

g said...

i too had fond dreams of being married by 27 kids shortly after the whole shebang... i too long to be a part of that club especially as each one of my friends has passed me by and become members of that club and left me in the dust. you tend to grow apart cause they are apart of the "club" and well we realy cant relate to you anymore... It sux... now here i sit about to turn 34 and still longing for that membership card!
I wish you thebest of luck and i know your membership card is in the mail and will reach your mailbox very soon!.... i too am going to CCRM and am hoping that i leave there with mine... i leave on thursday for my IVF so we will seehow it goes. i too have hyperthyroidism and know how it can effect all these treatments if things are just not right.. its a tough thing to add..
Well hope all your tests come back great and your on your way to motherhood! :)

Lisa said...

Nikki -- I feel bad that you have been going through this for long. It must be torture turning 38 and still waiting for your turn to come. I am thinking of you and hope things go your way soon. I too have a really supportive DH and dog that is 'our baby'. So I know how you feel.

Amy -- Thanks so much for the kind thoughts and prayers. It's really great to know that family and friends are behind us and rooting for us. Hope you and Mark and the kids are doing well. xo

LGB -- I wish we lived in the same city too! I'd love to have someone to sip Starbucks with :) Good luck on your upcoming cycle. i just know this is going to be the one for you! Hang in there.

G - Thanks for thinking of this and sorry to hear that you struggle with the same thing. Yeah, it's tough watching family and friends have thier kids and pass us by. I know how you feel and am wishing you the very best with your cycle at CCRM. Keep me posted and let me know how it goes. I'll be thinking of you.

brunettechicagogal said...

Everything you're feeling resonates with me. I feel like an outsider looking in. Except add this to the mix: I am single. So even on your worst days, be grateful (and you do seem quite aware that you've got it good in that department, so I'm not suggesting otherwise) that you have found a wonderful partner to share life with. On my worst days, I fear I'll never have either - a husband or a child.