The Mother I Hope to Be

Experiencing the miracle of life

I never imagined the topic of fertility would mean so much to me, but as I reach thirty, it feels like it’s the only thing everyone is talking about—including myself. I’ve gone through just about every thought possible related to my fertility and the idea of forming a family. Sometimes I’ve cried at the thought of future joy; other times I’ve trembled in fear that my dream may never come true. At times, that fear has become overwhelming, manifesting as the most painful cramps and bleeding I’ve ever experienced.

Fertility means so much to me, yet I struggle to put it all into words. I’m not a mother yet, and in truth, I don’t know if I ever will be. But my life’s dream is to be a mother and build a family. It hasn’t always been easy to say this out loud—especially now, when terms like “tradwife” exist and when many women aspire to “girl boss” their way through life, choosing to be childless, which is understandable. But some of us don’t fit into either category.

I want something simpler, something that falls in between. I want to experience, in my own body, the miracle of life. To feel my child growing inside me and then bring them into the world. I want to experience that connection, to live through moments that now seem too surreal and miraculous to be real.

I want to breastfeed, to use my body for what it was made for. I want to see my body change and transform. I want to give my child things I never had, lessons I had to learn on my own as an adult. In a way, I want to break cycles that have repeated through generations before me. I know I won’t be able to break them all, but I also know that breaking even a few will do my family tree a world of good.

I want to be a mother and care for my children. I want to watch them grow from little humans into big ones, with kind hearts and strong, independent minds. I want them to have their own opinions, to feel confident enough to challenge me, to tell me when I’m wrong and help me grow. I want to remember to be flexible, to recall what it was like navigating teenage years and young adulthood—finding and rebuilding myself over and over again. I want them to feel like they always have a safe space to return to, one that won’t judge their trials and failures. I want to be their guide, not their boss.

Looking at my words now, I realize that I want to become the mother I needed growing up.

Fertility used to terrify me. For a long time, I lived in fear, believing it was some kind of lottery— you either have it, or you don’t. But as I’ve discovered alternative writers and publications, I’ve learned more about fertility and the processes our bodies go through, and that knowledge has brought me peace. I now trust in my body and my knowledge to guide me towards my dream, slowly transforming it into a reality.

Motherhood used to scare me too. I still hear people talk about how expensive children are, how much they eat, the endless toys on their Christmas lists, the responsibility, the lack of peace, the loss of self, the stress. But when I share my perspective on these topics, my thoughts are often dismissed.

It feels risky to say this in today’s world, but I believe that human life, reproduction, and family can thrive on love, trust, and communication. No child needs hundreds of gifts or a closet full of clothes—there are other ways to nurture and provide.

Children can eat the same whole foods as adults; they’re not simply bottomless pits. They don’t need constant entertainment; they need to feel included and valued as part of the family’s daily life. Children don’t have to be a source of endless stress or make life worse—at least, that’s how I see it. But what do I know?

People often tell me I’ll understand the reality when I become a mother myself. But to be honest, I don’t see these people as the role models I’d want to follow, so why should I trust their perspective? When I connect with others who share my vision of motherhood, I realize I’m not crazy—there are others who see parenting in a similar light. And yet, our perspective is often dismissed, reduced to labels like “crunchy mom” and other internet buzzwords I’m tired of hearing.

Some of us, myself included, believe in a simpler way of living—one where health, food, emotions, play, and love create whole and healthy human beings. Others may think this is an oversimplification, and that’s okay. There is no absolute right or wrong. But if you see things the way I do, just know that you’re not alone.

You may not have given birth yet. You may not even be pregnant yet. But believing that one day you will find your way is the only path worth following.

Emily Hubbard writes POMELO in an old house, in the middle of the countryside, surrounded by big trees, birds, books and probably a cup of decaf coffee. Subscribe and read more of her work here. You can also follow Emily on Instagram @ejjjjjjhd.

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Emily’s piece was published in Issue 35 of the WARKITCHEN, a Mother’s Day special. You can read the full issue here: