The 48-Hour Maybe Baby Scholarship Contest

by Randi

‎”I can honestly say I didn’t realize I would enjoy doing the program so much. I really, really enjoyed doing the exercises, living the question, and learning more about myself. I also think my husband is grateful I did this, because I assured him that now I honestly know what I want and am not just tossing decisions into the air. This was one of the best things I have ever done for myself. Thank you so much for facilitating this, and for putting this out into the universe. I think you are going to help a lot of women with the program.” ~Maybe Baby participant

Maybe Baby starts next week and registration closes Friday, February 3rd.

If you’ve been considering enrolling in Maybe Baby (For women who are ambivalent about motherhood but hear the whisper of ‘maybe’ in their hearts) or if you’re just hearing about it for the first time, I want to give you a nudge to register for the course.  Of course you have to to be ready to get honest with yourself, be willing to open your heart and witness your truth.  It’s no small thing.  But it is everything to be at peace with your truth, whatever it may be.  Everything.

Maybe Baby starts next week and registration closes Friday, February 3rd.  

So the nudge is thus:  a scholarship contest.  If you don’t want to take your chances and you want to get in on the program (it, ahem, starts next week) please register on the Maybe Baby page.  If you want to take your chances, you can enter below.

I’m offering one full scholarship to Maybe Baby and the winner will be determined by a really nice panel of guest judges.  The winner will be announced Saturday morning.  Like registration, the scholarship competition closes on Friday, midnight (PST).

Maybe Baby starts next week and registration closes Friday, February 3rd.  

To enter, please tell me in the comments below:

1) What does ambivalence about motherhood costs you?  and/or

2) What would be different for you as a result of knowing your truth? 

Good luck and go!  Creating and facilitating this course if one of my callings in this world.  I so want to support you through this. Oh, and please tell a friend.

Lucky me swimmin’ in my ability
Dancin’ down on life with agility…
Give it away give it away give it away now
~RHCP

 

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  • Renee

    1. It might cost me the best love relationship of my life. He is 36 and I am 44 and if maybe is yes then will I need to move on? Almost 8 years of glorious love and its only this year I hear whispers.  It may also cost me biological children as 44 is not exactly perfect timing unless I get pregnant tonight….which I won’t but only cause I have an IUD. 

    2. The difference would be peace and freedom. To love the children of our loved ones that surround us without wondering. To truly let go and either try together, move on, plan to adopt or live as just us, the two of us, happy, free and loving. 

    Renee 
    xx

  • explorer

    It costs me too much time ruminating and analysing, that could be better spent being totally present in relationship and on the many different creative endeavours I have in my life. The Ambivalence costs me the most precious thing there is- TIME. Given that for us women time is an extremely precious commodity especially in the childbearing years, this is really serious business. I am so encouraged to see there is finally a course which addresses such an important and under spoken about issue. I am curious to hear about what happens on the other side. I mean, I imagine that there are many ambivalent moments once a woman has a child. How can there not be, with it being such a difficult task. 

    Knowing my truth would enable me to step out of ambivalence and be completely present. It would help me to either continue along the current relationship (of which he is ten years older than me – I am 33) or let him go allowing him to fulfill his wishes of having a baby with someone who matches him in that desire and continue on my way. Someone once said to me there is yes or no…ambivalence means no. I’m not so convinced of that, especially pertainin to THE biggest decision of your life, which is why I would love to do the course. 

    I wonder if there is any way of knowing your truth before diving into it… It seems in some ways biology helps you to move into motherhood even if you were somewhat ambivalent of diving in. I would love to do this course…and I would love to spread the word once Ive done it and can vouch for it to my many other ambivalent female friends

  • Marianne

    Oh Renee – I feel you. The answer to my Maybe Baby question was also going to be the answer to whether I could stay with my love. Peace in this is such a relief. I hope you choose the Maybe Baby journey because I know all too well the pain of not being at peace with this one. 

  • Iris

    There is an essay by Adrienne Rich that I really love, in which she writes: “To lie habitually, as a way of life, is to lose contact with the
    unconscious. It ceases to speak to those who want something else more
    than truth. This is why the effort to speak honestly is so important.
    Lies are usually attempts to make everything simpler – for the liar –
    than it really is, or ought to be. In lying to others we end up lying to
    ourselves. We deny the importance of an event, or a person, and thus
    deprive ourselves of a part of our lives. Or we use one piece of the
    past or present to screen out another. Thus we lose faith even with our
    own lives. The unconscious wants truth.” 

    Ambivalence about motherhood costs me the truth, and the dreams those truths come out of.  I don’t know any more if I tell myself “I really want a baby” because that’s what society has conditioned me to want, or if I tell my husband “I’ll be happy even if we don’t have children” because that makes things simpler for us if we can’t have them.  I don’t know if I am scared to be a mother because my mother never seemed completely fulfilled in her life, or if I genuinely want to be free to pursue a life without children.  I feel that my mind is a jumble of all the mixed messages society sends our generation of women about what it means to be fulfilled as a woman, and I need to quiet those jabbering voices, cliches, and formulas so I can figure out what is relevant to me.  

    I don’t know yet what would be different for me as result of knowing my truth.  I think, and I hope, that this will allow me to live more wholeheartedly in the present, to interact more authentically with others and to give more of my (true) self, and to find  peace and confidence in the meaning of my life.  But most of all, I would love the opportunity to simply acknowledge the truth to myself — no matter how hard or complicated that makes my life now.  I want to get back to the point that I trust in the journey itself, and leave these questions about what’s “right” or “wrong” behind.

    Thanks, Randi, for this wonderful scholarship opportunity.

  • Allison

    My ambivalence about motherhood has kept me static, in many areas of my life.  On most days I can easily ignore the fact that the within a few years, if I don’t answer this question, the question will be answered for me.  It is so easy for me to turn to the things that I have created to be my children- my business, my hobbies, my cat, for fulfillment in my life.  But deep down there is a sense of fear that I might be missing out on something huge.  There is a knot in my stomach knowing that I could live half my life in regret by making the wrong decision.

    I am single now, but I do know that I would like to meet a man who would be my best friend and husband.  This I am absolutely certain of.  But it seems that most men that I meet that are in my age range have already made their decision on children (which is usually “yes! at least 2!”), and not one of them is going to wait it out to see if I make the same choice.  They say to focus your attention onto what you want to bring it into your life.  But what happens when you don’t know exactly what it is that you want?  It feels like you become stuck in a state of limbo.

    As I was growing up, I thought I had already made the decision.  I was going to have children.  Two of them, so they had someone to play with.  (I was an only child, it sounded like a good idea to me.)  As I got older, I realized that the only reason that I actually wanted children was because that was what I was supposed to want.  I was supposed to graduate, get married, and have children.  Now I can’t tell whether I actually don’t want children, or if it’s my knee jerk reaction to things that I am “supposed to do”.

    I have many friends who are parents- and watching them from afar makes me scared, and sad.  I know the people that they used to be, and it seems as though sometimes they’re not even in there anymore.  That they’ve given up their lives and identities as soon as their children were born.  As someone who has struggled with depression for my entire life, I could see a life like this keeping me in a dark place.  I know that how I parent, and how I handle my life is my choice, and my experience could be completely different from theirs, but part of me thinks that’s what everyone says in the beginning.

    I’ve always been an extremely independent person, so every time I think about having a child, I always imagine doing everything on my own- which I could never handle.  When I think of having a child within a loving relationship, the idea makes me very happy, which just ends up making me more confused.

    Having this question answered would give me the ability to move forward in my life, and state what I want with confidence, and not living with a constant state of fear over making the wrong decision, or running out of time.  I feel as though there are big things waiting for out there, but to set them in motion, I need to address this question.

  • Sera Bishop

    Oh, Randi. What an important conversation for so many women. Thank
    you for putting it out on the table and striking down the taboo that
    keeps so many of us in silence.

    I grew up thinking everyone wanted to have kids. It wasn’t until my
    later teens when friends started voicing their ambivalence. It caught
    me off guard completely. I didn’t scream from the mountaintops that I
    want to have kids, or HAD to have kids, I just saw it as the way my life is
    supposed to happen. I feel it in my gut and my heart. I want to have that
    experience… No, I am ‘supposed to’ have that experience. 
     
    What I didn’t know: with those thoughts and feelings, a life ‘plan’ was
    developing, an expectation, one that would create much anxiety, fear,
    uncertainty and painful guilt in my future. 

    Truth: sometimes I wish I didn’t want kids so deeply. I feel like
    it would be so much easier if I could just go with the flow and allow
    it to happen or not. The ‘what ifs’ creep in. What if I fall in love
    with someone and much later find out one of us can’t have children?
    What would that mean for us? What if I don’t ever find that person?
    Or my current situation: What if I meet a soul-mate, someone who
    already has 2 children, and is open to but unsure if/when they want
    to have more? How do I deal with that uncertainty? 
     
    How do I know if I’m aligning my action (or inaction) according to
    these fears vs. my many other true-heart desires?

    And despite being able to rationalize this, how do I fight
    the worst truth/fear BEAST of all: What if I am being punished
    for something and I’m never given the opportunity?

    All this ambivalence costs me the freedom I need to LET GO: to be
    in the moment, to enjoy myself and my independence wholeheartedly
    for who I am NOW. It costs me the freedom to embrace my amazing
    relationship as it is NOW without feeling like I am waiting for an answer,
    or guilty for needing ‘check-ins’ regarding this conversation.. or just being
    too damn controlled by this biological tic-tock I’ve felt getting louder and
    louder the last few years.

    It costs me the freedom of feeling whole.

    Knowing my truth would give me the peace I need inside my heart.
    It would allow me the certainty of my actions instead of fearing
    taking a step forward in any direction (related or not!), or fearing
    the Butterfly Effect: that I might make the wrong decision, be it
    ever so small, that may impact my future opportunities to have
    children with someone I love deeply instead of ending up in
    the dreaded place of desperation.

    It would allow me to have this conversation freely with other women.

    I want to let this go. I want to feel whole NOW. I want to let life happen.
    I want to be free from this tug-o-war in my heart and embrace the truth
    of what is meant to be and trust the unfolding process without ambivalence
    toward action.

    Thank you, so much, for this opportunity in a time when I could not
    otherwise be a part of this transformational experience.

  • Sera Bishop

    I love that reading, Iris! Thank you for sharing that in your comment; it is such a poignant piece.

  • Sarah

    I always thought that I knew my answer to being a
    mother.  That while it was a choice I
    deeply respected, it wasn’t something that I wanted for my own life.  Maybe it was my fear of another human being
    relying so much on me, or my fear of being able to meet their needs.  Or maybe it was just my love of crashing on
    the couch at the end of a long day, and not having any further responsibility
    beyond getting food in my mouth and myself into the gym.

     

    This was especially true during my 7-year marriage.  I couldn’t fathom the two of us being parents
    when I felt so disconnected and unhappy with my relationship.  Sure, he was an amazing person with a huge
    heart.  But he also couldn’t handle
    anything unplanned, and was constantly stressed.  That’s pretty much the opposite of what a
    life with a child seemed to be.  Always
    unpredictable and pretty stressful, balancing everything required being a
    parent.   That decision seemed pretty
    easy to make, and so I lived through my 20s with a pretty solid decision in the
    back of my mind.  Maybe deep down I also
    knew that he wasn’t the right person, and it wasn’t the right time. 

     

    Then, life shifted and I spoke the truth that was in my
    heart.  Going through a divorce made me
    grateful that we hadn’t gone down that road, and it certainly made it a little
    easier to start fresh. 

     

    2 years later, I am absolutely certain that I have met the
    person I am meant to be with for the rest of my life.  I have never felt so deeply in love.  This person who knows my heart from the
    inside out, and the one that I want to marry. 
    And in thinking about our future, the question has again sparked in my
    heart of whether or not.  But this time,
    the road seems longer.  We face different
    challenges and questions I’ve never had to think about.  We’ve heard a doctor utter the words
    ‘cancer’,  ‘tumor’ and ‘radiation’.  We’ve heard about small percentages for
    survival and very educated doctors talking about very little research.  All of these things compound my confusion,
    and spark a fear deep in my belly.  But
    they also bring thoughts of a loving life shared for as long as we’re given,
    and the chance to bring a life into this world together that we’ll share. 

     

    I feel as though I am at a very important fork in the
    road.  Knowing my truth would give me the
    opportunity to focus on the life that we want to live, rather than the fears
    that sometimes suffocate.  Having the
    opportunity to explore the questions that I have, have open discussions with
    family and friends and explore the possibilities would not only give me
    clarity, but in a roundabout way, help me work through these big and scary
    things that we’re facing.    

  • Sarah

    I always thought that I knew my answer to being a mother.  That while it was a choice I deeply respected, it wasn’t something that I wanted for my own life.  Maybe it was my fear of another human being relying so much on me, or my fear of being able to meet their needs.  Or maybe it was just my love of crashing on the couch at the end of a long day, and not having any further responsibility beyond getting food in my mouth and myself into the gym.

    This was especially true during my 7-year marriage.  I couldn’t fathom the two of us being parents when I felt so disconnected and unhappy with my relationship.  Sure, he was an amazing person with a huge heart.  But he also couldn’t handle anything unplanned, and was constantly stressed.  That’s pretty much the opposite of what a life with a child seemed to be.  Always unpredictable and pretty stressful, balancing everything required being a parent.   That decision seemed pretty easy to make, and so I lived through my 20s with a pretty solid decision in the back of my mind.  Maybe deep down I also knew that he wasn’t the right person, and it wasn’t the right time. 

    Then, life shifted and I spoke the truth that was in my heart.  Going through a divorce made me grateful that we hadn’t gone down that road, and it certainly made it a little easier to start fresh. 

    2 years later, I am absolutely certain that I have met the person I am meant to be with for the rest of my life.  I have never felt so deeply in love.  This person who knows my heart from the inside out, and the one that I want to marry.  And in thinking about our future, the question has again sparked in my heart of whether or not.  But this time, the road seems longer.  We face different challenges and questions I’ve never had to think about.  We’ve heard a doctor utter the words ‘cancer’,  ‘tumor’ and ‘radiation’.  We’ve heard about small percentages for survival and very educated doctors talking about very little research.  All of these things compound my confusion, and spark a fear deep in my belly.  But they also bring thoughts of a loving life shared for as long as we’re given, and the chance to bring a life into this world together that we’ll share. 

    I feel as though I am at a very important fork in the road.  Knowing my truth would give me the opportunity to focus on the life that we want to live, rather than the fears that sometimes suffocate.  Having the opportunity to explore the questions that I have, have open discussions with family and friends and explore the possibilities would not only give me clarity, but in a roundabout way, help me work through these big and scary things that we’re facing.    

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