30 Weeks — 7.5 months.
I never had a strong urge to be a mother. Even as a kid, when my friends would be playing with Barbies or playing house, I always found something else to do. Climb something, play on the swings, dig to China in the sandbox. Maybe because my home life wasn’t so charmed, I didn’t have the desire to replicate it with dolls.
It wasn’t until I hit my 30s that I started to get it. Friends were getting married and having babies, and part of me went, “Oh, that looks nice.” But still, I waved away the opportunities to hold someone’s baby. I still do. (I’m sorry, but I’m not a parent yet. I’m sure I’ll feel differently when I have my own kids, but for now, babies are scary. Please don’t thrust yours into my arms. I don’t like it, and neither does your child.) Children just wasn’t something that made me all melty and gooey like my girlfriends. I would go so far as to think, “Ugh. Kids.”
I made peace with the fact that children probably weren’t going to be in my future. I felt good about the adoption option if it did end up becoming a strong desire, but I was mostly convinced that I just wasn’t that girl. I’d be the fun old lady next door who lets all the neighborhood kids play ball in her yard, but never had kids of her own. I was fine with that.
And then I met DH. He was everything I wanted in a partner, and also had some amazing qualities that I didn’t even know I’d like. Falling in love with him was the whole romantic comedy/rainbows and unicorns experience/plus winning the lottery. And it was when he brought up wanting children in 2010 that I really confronted the idea. Me as a mother? Woah.
Fast forward a few years and here we are. I’m a mom. And I just read a chapter in the book Hypnobirthing that made me realize that I’ve been going at this all wrong. I’ve spent the last 7 months “dealing with” being pregnant. Coming to terms with it, managing the ordeal, complaining, complaining, complaining. I mean, that was the whole purpose of this blog — an outlet for my bitching. And the book pointed out that I should be “pre-parenting:” bonding with my future daughter now by talking to her, singing to her, playing with her (pressing on the bump, massaging it, etc.) having DH talk to her and basically falling in love with her now. I haven’t done any of that (well, other than playing classical music through an earbud shoved down my pants). Am I a bad mother already?? I’ve just been stumbling through a pregnancy; I haven’t at all been mentally preparing for having a daughter.
And so, I’ve been working on my attitude. I’m a naturally negative thinker, despite being blessed with a wonderful life. DH knows this and is great at turning me negative thoughts and fears around. But it made me stall at writing a blog post, which is why it’s been a few weeks. I’m not really sure what to write if it’s not about my aching feet, my constant heartburn, my swollen sausage fingers. I mean, the bitchy stuff is what makes it interesting, right? Am I supposed to tell you about being an audience member for The Talk during a baby shower episode where they gave away $1million worth of pregnancy and baby gear to the audience and now I don’t have to shop for a damn thing because I have everything you could possibly need for a new child? Does anyone want to hear about the good stuff? The good stuff isn’t funny or entertaining. I mean, how do I spin a therapeutic talk with DH where we shared all our fears and hopes and dreams and got infinitely closer as a couple to be entertaining? How do I talk about the sweet stray cat that is clearly attached to our house and is drawing out all my maternal instincts and making me make it a catbed outside our door and want to start feeding it and putting a flea coller on it and calling it something other than Thing? I mean, who wants to read about all that feel-good crap?
So, I’m working on it. I’m sure there will still be inspiration somewhere for this blog. I don’t want to scare away all 3 of my readers with the feel-good crap, but it is what it is. I still want to write, so we’ll see what this turns into. I apologize in advance.
Annoying Pregnancy Symptom of the Day: Hello, stretchmarks. Nice to meet you. Wish you would’ve found any place on the body other than my awesome tits, but thank you just the same.
Update: Not stretchmarks — they’re veins! WTF.