Confession: I have no idea what I’m doing. None. I don’t know how to mom. My prior experience in how to be a mom is pretty limited  to acting roles. I played a mom once in The Miracle Worker, but that’s it. That’s literally the only time I was cast as a mom. I’ve been a pregnant lady a few times, a witch, a murderer, a faux lesbian on drugs and a bride many, many times, but not the mom.

I never really played house as a kid and I was certainly not the mommy. I was the mad scientist who cut off one of Ken’s feet while staging a house of horrors. I also gave my Barbies breast implants using dental wax from my orthodontist. I was the weird kid. I never babysat- actually I did once, but I think that was a veiled attempt from my neighbors to get me to date their teenaged son who “happened” to come home early. When people would ask if I would like to hold their baby, I’d react like as if they asked me to hold a bomb: Uh, no, that’s okay. Nope. Not touching it. Babies are like bombs- explosive and easily set off. Also, I’m pretty sure babies can smell fear.

The job of “momming” is such an insanely important one and so intimidating that it took me 38 years to decide to be one. “Decide” is not accurate, really.  Husband and I were having wine and talking on my 38th birthday and we said in essence “let’s give it a shot. Why not? You’re great, I’m great, we’re full of love, so we’d make a great kid. I’m 38, the ole eggs aren’t gettin’ any younger, it might take some time- years, maybe- so we should start now.” So we “removed the goalie,” the “goalie” being my diaphragm, which I liked to thing of as a tiny yarmulke for my cervix. One month later, I was pregnant.  I took the pregnancy test in my apartment before work and then cried when that plus sign showed up, thinking “Oh sh!t, I’ve got to grow up now.” Honestly, I was 38. It was about time. But I was overwhelmed, scared and excited at finally being cast as a real mom (ironically, that night I played a serial killer in a staged reading). It felt existentially unfair that I, a semi-ambivalent mom-to-be, would have such luck getting pregnant when some of my dear friends struggled with infertility, adoption, etc.

I think there’s a lot of people out there who are ambivalent about being a parent, and that’s okay. I was. I thought, “I’d be fine not being a mom, but I’d be fine having a kid.” In truth, I’m ambivalent about most things. It takes me 30 minutes to pick out a beverage for a road trip. “Do I want something hydrating? ‘Cuz then I’ll have to pee, or do I want something caffeinated? But that makes me pee, too. That one has too many calories, that has too many ingredients I can’t pronounce. Do I need vitamins? No? Okay, water, then. But which one? Dasani is owned by Coke, so they already have enough money. Smart Water? Wait, is that a joke? How about coconut water?” And so on and so on.

I also had this notion that to be a mom you had to both be a saint and committed to a life of drudgery and servitude. And you had to smile your ass off while doing it. Bake cupcakes, wipe butts, etc. Also, your vagina would never recover from giving birth and you’d pee when you sneezed.

It’s not what I feared it would be. My lady bits are fine, thank you. I do not pee when I sneeze, yet. I’ve had some close calls with some laughing fits, but still dry so far. Yes, I do wipe butts, and it’s so cute, although today’s poop nearly made me barf. It was really, really bad, y’all.  There’s an incredible amount of love and joy and terror (for the child) and so many laughs that the drudgery and stinks and fussing are absolutely worth it. I almost feel like I’m going to burst with love. Just pop or explode.  Being a mom is the bomb. This love is intense, and this job is hard. Really hard, but surprisingly fun.

I want to give thanks to the moms out there who have mentored me through this insane process of keeping a child alive. My moms, my friends and other mothers who are doing the best they can on the daily. Thank you for your advice and your solace. Because of you, I know a lot more about being a mom than I ever have, even though I still have so much more to discover.