It has taken me until my 30s to figure out how to put my shirt on the right-side out and not lock myself out of the house by accident (have done that a few times.) How on earth am I going to be responsible for a life that is entirely counting on me to keep it alive?
Even though I’m getting to the point where I’m noticeably pregnant (23 weeks this weekend), it still feels incredibly surreal that baby E will be here in less than FOUR MONTHS. I don’t know, I guess I thought when you were this pregnant that whole baby-is-about-to-be-here thing would feel more real. Even when I wake up in the middle of the night to flutters in my stomach, it doesn’t seem like there’s a baby in there — it’s more like an alien snake has found its way into my intestines (cue horror music.) But a person? Nah.
This pregnancy was so planned and I want kid(s) — but also I want a parallel life without kids to just see which one happens to be a better path. Of course, that’s not how life works. My husband was born to be a dad, and I couldn’t deny him of that. I’d like to be a mom, but in reality — I question every day if this is the right decision, even though that decision has already been made, and even though I’m grateful to be a mom soon to a hopefully healthy little blob-like creature.
But — I’m starting to feel a bit panicked about the logistics of life with said baby. Like all other women on this planet who have kids, I’ll figure it out. I’m sure I’ll be a walking zombie for a while. I’ll become intimately familiar with the bitter taste of coffee dripping down my throat after likely scorching my tongue (who has time to wait for the perfect temperature when you’re about to fall over?) So, I’ll figure it out, like all moms do — but I’m fairly convinced it won’t be easy. Or, in other words, it’s going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
And I owe it to this kid to not let them know just how hard it is. I owe it to this kid to be strong and loving and have my shit together and avoid showing weakness, except when something really deserves an emotional response. I will not cry in front of my kid out of exhaustion or worry. I will learn to be everything I’m not and try my best to be the kind of mother I want to be — calm, collected, organized, on time, sensible, caring, patient, confident, strong.
The reality I don’t know if I’m capable of that. Heck, I spend too many minutes of the everyday lately going over why I’m not, then trying to figure out how I can shift myself to fit that mold. Maybe that woman will appear in four months, the moment she holds her newborn child in her arms. I know having a kid changes you… maybe it can change me.
life with interest 