My heart.

Tonight, as I read those words of a mother's honest account of her first glance at her newborn daughter, I was inconsolable. Immediately after coming face to face with the precious bundle she carried for 9 months, she knew the diagnosis. Downs syndrome. And all the sudden, the world shifted on it's axis and the visions she had for her daughter, her family, their future came to a screeching halt. And I cried. I cried for the mother, torn between this supposed automatic love she was expected to feel for this child and her own grief in realizing nothing was going to turn out how she envisioned. I cried for the daughter, knowing that life would prove more difficult for a child with DS than a child without, a child without expectations and only love to give. And I cried for the older sister. Knowing she would never have those midnight talks about boyfriends or overprotective parents, she wouldn't get the ideal sister bond that a parent hopes for their child.

And I cried for myself.

Nobody realizes just how much my heart aches to be a mother. I feel a void inside that nothing can fill. My nieces occupy that space temporarily but it's always a fleeting sense of fulfillment. Seeing them, hugging them, playing with them, kissing and spoiling them gives me the instant gratification I crave but still leaves me empty. I see them and their bond with their mother and I get jealous. An overwhelming envy of their special bond. A "when will that be me?" jealousy. People say I am young, I still have time, I should wait but my little heart literally skips a beat when I see a newborn. When mothers, distracted by their child's misbehavior or their own lack of sleep/time/money, make comments like "aren't you glad you don't have one?" My heart drops through the floor. It's almost as if those words leave a sting across my face. There is nothing I want more at this stage of my life.

The ironic thing is...I was never one of those girls in junior high and high school that fell into the trap of thinking that it's my main duty in life to hang around, find a man, get married and have his babies, wash his clothes, make his dinner and feel 100% fulfilled by that. To some women that's a fantasy, that's what they were raised to become, what they wanted to do and ultimately what they did. Not me. I had dreams of my own. I wanted an education, I wanted a career, I wanted to be self sufficient, not dependent on a man. And I did all those things. Now, I feel this clock ticking at warp speed. Half the time, it's so distracting I don't know if that thump, thump, thump is my maternal clock or my heart beating against my chest.

They say a mother loves her child even before it's born. What about loving them before they are conceived?