Parents, close friends, and boss have all been notified. I think that means it’s OK to post it on the internet: Steve and I are expecting our first child. And by expecting I only mean waiting for it to come, because we certainly don’t know what to expect. Sometimes I ask him, “do you think I’ll be a good mom?” because I honestly don’t know. I’m impatient and moody and undomesticated and a whole slew of other things a mom isn’t supposed to be.
I have always wanted a family, but never felt prepared for one. Six years ago, I had just graduated college and had no idea what my life would bring, but certainly wasn’t ready for it to bring a baby. I’m wondering if things have really changed that much over the last six years. On paper, I’m ready: I’ve been married for five years, I have a house with empty rooms. But in my head, it’s a whole different story.
People say your natural maternal instincts kick in once your child is born and I’m really banking on that. I have great plans of family traditions and picnics and back-to-school shopping, but I don’t know about the bulk of parenting: the everyday. As much as I hate being pregnant, I guess it’s a good thing that it takes 9 months for that baby to emerge. It will take me 9 months of telling myself over and over that we’re really having a child before I finally believe it. That is my mental preparation: acceptance.
So until the first week of April, you can expect a few blogs from me bitching about pregnancy. My chin looks like the Appalachian Mountains right about now. I have exactly two pairs of work pants and two pairs of jeans that fit and my shirt selection is getting slimmer by the day (I, of course, have the opposite problem). I pant walking up the stairs. I feel out of shape, exhausted, and just plain fat. But it’s all for the greater good.
I will still plan to write about life outside of pregnancy. I hope to keep my individuality and not morph into one of those women who is only defined by the title of “mom.” I plan to continue having hobbies and aspirations and friends without kids. I hope to be able to hold conversations that don’t start with, “my son/daughter said/did the funniest thing yesterday…” I hope to maintain myself, while receiving my new title. But like I said, I don’t know what to expect except a baby out of all of this.