Someone in my vanpool said to me this morning “you seem to be doing a lot better than my other pregnant friends!  They’re complaining that they can’t sleep, they’re constantly in pain, whatever.”

And I said “no, I’m feeling like that too.  I just haven’t been complaining.”

It’s true.  I try and act tough and like Superwoman at work, and if anyone asks me how I’m doing I say I’m good, and then I hole up in my office with the door shut and try to work.

But the truth is that I’m tired.  I feel sick.  I’ve been feeling sick for seven months now.  I went on a tour of the hospital’s maternity ward and watched some birth videos and they were gory and really scared me.  I don’t feel excited like all the other women on the maternity tour who were making big shows of rubbing their tummies.  I don’t feel excited like the new moms on Facebook who are posting streams of photos about their babies.

Maybe it’s that I’m 34 and not 24, and all my friends did this a decade ago and are so over it.  Maybe it’s that I didn’t have a baby shower, because my mom is not the type of person who is into that type of thing, and even if she were, her cancer is the priority now.  Maybe it’s that without siblings I feel like there is nobody to celebrate with.

I’m still at work every day, getting more and more work dumped on me.  I’m weary of the now bi-weekly doctor appointments and getting needles stuck in me–and about constant anxiety over whether the baby is healthy and will be born healthy, in addition to the even worse anxiety over my mom’s health.  Last weekend we went to the hospital for a maternity tour, where they handed out a brochure saying the leading cause of death for babies was car crashes and how pregnant moms should avoid driving in the last few months.  Great, but I live 22 miles from my job, and teleporters haven’t been developed yet.

I’m scared.  I’m going to have another human being to raise.  A girl, which I suspect is that much harder and where the burden will be a lot more on me than my husband.   I don’t really want to watch up close as someone else like me goes through the types of things I did growing up (hopefully either she is different or the world has changed).  I thought I’d be excited, but I’m just full of apprehension.  Having a baby is such an irreversible life change.  After so many years being single I feel awkward around my parents suddenly being a married mom-to-be.

It’s not that this isn’t something I wanted to do.  It’s that…I guess I just want to rewind my life by ten years, so it all happened differently.  So the baby didn’t happen when my mom got sick, or when I was restarting my career.  But I guess we all have regrets, and hopefully they inform the future.



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