Some women dream of their child — the name, the sex, etc — long before they even meet the partner they make their baby with. That’s not me. I have always felt a selfish twinge when picturing myself having biological children. My friends had children, my half-sister did, and it felt good and right for them.
See, the ten years I spent so vocal about not wanting to bear children, people smiled condescendingly and told me, “Just wait,” muttering something about a clock. I didn’t suddenly freak out and then came baby — more the other way around…
With how nerve wracking this process has been, and how emotional I have become, when I am used to walking a very straight and logical line, I am almost positive I will punch any “I told you so”-s directly in the face. I spent many weeks preparing for news that I’d possibly have a sick child, and it’s been difficult to switch gears.
I’m excited, certainly, and I really, really love me some baby shoes. But there’s a sharp edge of reality to the excitement. Life is daunting and while what’s goin’ on in there is the thing most closely resembling a miracle I’ve ever encountered, I’m also weighed down by the responsibility that whatever my baby goes through is, in large part, my fault.
How can I communicate that I am still coming to terms with the dramatic shift in my life without coming off all doom and gloom?