Do I want it bad enough?

Today is the second last day of our visit with my family.  It's been a wonderful vacation, minus M coming down with a sinus infection that's knocked him for a loop for the past day or two.  We've had beautiful sunny weather (quite the rarity for a province that's normally the rain, drizzle and fog capital of Canada) and I've spent a ton of quality time with my niece.  Leaving her tomorrow will be hard, but there's also a part of me that will be happy to get back to our house, our quiet routine and our bird/dog menagerie.

In spending so much time with my niece, one of the things that I've actually ended up reflecting on a lot since I've been here has been my desire to be a mother.  I'll start by saying right off the bat that nothing's changed, not really, and M and I will still be doing our next IVF in a month or so.  But I've started to wonder a little bit if I really want it as bad as I should, or at least as much as everyone else seems to.  

The thing is, I didn't always want to have a child.  Admitting this seems a little bit blasphemous in an online community committed to pursuing parenthood.  It feels like for a lot of infertility bloggers, becoming a mom is a dream they've had since childhood and fulfilling this goal is something they have a deep, visceral need to do.  It's never really been that way for me.   In fact, into my late twenties I was pretty adamant that I didn't want to have kids at all, and my online dating profile when I was 28 reflected that.  Looking back on it, I can't really decide if it was a factor of not having met the right guy yet, or not wanting to give up my time, my freedom, my money and my figure (yeah, I'm shallow, but it's hard work for me to stay on the slim side). What I do know is that I would never have been someone who felt strongly enough about motherhood to go through IVF with donor sperm to have a baby on her own.  I fully respect those who do, as it's got to be the farthest thing from easy, but it wasn't for me. 

Two things changed for me in pretty short order when I was 33 years old.  I started dating the man who would become my husband, and my niece was born.  For the first time in my life, I was in a position to be around a newborn and feel the incredible power that such a little being possesses.  A power that makes you want to do everything you can to protect it and keep it happy and watch it grow to experience life.  And, at the same time, I was finally with someone who I could envision as a full partner in creating and caring for that little being.  M and I started talking about marriage, and then kids.  It was something he wanted, and I realized that it had somehow become something that I kinda, sorta wanted too.  I mean, I was still incredibly terrified of the demands that a baby places on your life, your relationship, your body and your finances.  I was under absolutely no illusions that having a child would be easy or even enjoyable for large parts of it.  But I was part of a team now, and as a team I felt like we could do it.

I still feel that way.  I know that if we can ever manage to have a baby, we'll be good parents and we'll rise to meet the challenges that come with building a family.  But I have to be brutally honest here, and say that I wonder if we're really prepared for the changes we would have to make if we're successful in having a child.  Being around my niece has been a bit of an eye-opener for me.  While I've loved spending time with her, quite frankly, she's tiring.  I'm a novelty to her, so she's been pretty focused on spending time with me since we got home.  That's meant endless running and story-telling and colouring and bubble-blowing.  I've helped her get dressed.  I've helped her go potty.  I've held her when she's had a toddler meltdown.  And at the end of five or six hours with her, I'm done.  It's honestly a bit of a relief when 7pm hits and my sister tells her it's time to go home or go to bed, and I get to hug and kiss her and sit back and relax.  But for my sister, there's still work to be done.  Because she's the mom. 

What all of this has driven home for me is that there's a huge difference between understanding on a conceptual level that having a child changes your life, and actually living it.  Right now, M and I know conceptually that if we succeed in having a baby, our down time will be severely limited if not eliminated completely.  But what happens when our leisurely weekend mornings of coffee and internet-surfing actually disappear?  Our ability to just plop down on the couch and turn off our brains for a few hours in front of the TV will give way to listening to baby monitors, washing dirty bottles and folding onesies.  We'll be tired and irritable.  We're not even close enough to either set of grandparents to have someone pop over to relieve us if we need a break.  We'll be out on that tightrope without a net, and nowhere to sit if we get tired halfway across.  We'll just have to keep going, no matter how much we might want to stop.

Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one terrified of this prospect.  When I mention it, M casually shrugs his shoulders and says that we'll deal with it when/if it happens, and that it's part of parenthood.  But seriously.  We've only been here for a week, and this is how I feel.  Is it possible that I'm simply too selfish and lazy to be a mom?  That I don't want it bad enough?  What if I'm only supposed to be an aunt?  If we lived here permanently (not an option), would I get enough of a taste of kids by being around my niece that I wouldn't want one of my own anymore?  What if we do end up managing to have one of our own, and I end up resenting the loss of my previous life, or worse yet, resenting our child?  Everyone else always seems so sure!  Are these the kinds of things other people worry about when they talk about having doubts about having kids?  Do the people who have always wanted kids think about this stuff?  Or does having these doubts mean that my instincts as a twenty-something were right, and that I shouldn't be trying to have children at all?