According to a preggo website, I am now about 22 weeks along. Being past the halfway mark is both exciting and spooky. Everyone, including my neighbors are probably referring to me as, “that pregnant lady.” Which, strangely is totally ok.
Emotionally, I still feel like I’m teetering between totally fine and very easily irritated. Today driving home after being out for a few hours I was annoyed by the music we had on, hot, tired and all at once glad that Michael got me a Sprite for the ride home. I still have my freak out moments and times where I verbally assault the guy with lines starting with things like, “when you have to carry a bag of sugar in your womb..” or better yet, “you are not the expert on babies..” (Which I said-probably louder than needed to be, at Babys R Us today.)
We’ve been steadily unpacking and getting things more organized in Cheeto’s room. (Go Michael!)Sometimes I find myself confused about the fact that in a few months I will have a son. Even more alarming: a hospital will let me walk out of there with a newborn who is totally dependant on me and we have the task of raising him to be a decent human being. Seriously, parenting books abound, I don’t think anyone can teach you to be a good parent.
Being pregnant has reminded me of things that happened to me when I was growing up, both good and bad, and it’s strange to think that someday, my adult son (universe willing) will reflect upon his life the way I have mine. Pending he doesn’t have the IQ of a kumquat.
There are a multitude of things that I’m grateful for these days. The list is not limited to:
- Having graduated college and graduate school before having a child.
- Listening to my grandmother when she told me I have better have a damn job and support myself before I added a pet, child or husband into the picture.
- Watching my high school peers struggle with children born to children and believing there had to be a better way despite my mother nagging me about when I was going to just settle down already.
- Already having spent too much money on shoes, books, makeup and handbags-I don’t think I’ll resent that part of my life simmering down.
Ironically, despite being scared at times, I have a general sense of well being about the kid. I worry about the things I think all pregnant women/moms worry about:
- Will I make a good mother?
- Will I raise a good person? (Which really is an extension of the first bullet.)
- Will I be able to afford good daycare?
- Will my kid be ok at daycare?
- Will I be able to afford a kid period?
- Will I have a social life?
However, I think those fears come with the territory. Everyone was born to someone, I can’t be the first chick who as an after thought said to herself, “what the hell am I doing?” However, I think the whole process is something that is very self defined. No one can really tell you what it’s like to be pregnant, you have to just do it. Parenting must be the same way. Right? Other moms can chime in about whether you need a diaper genie, whether to breast feed or not or whether you should stop drinking tea, but you have to decide & do what works for you & your family.
I’ve been reading a book about motherhood written by a stay at home mom turn lactaton consultation, turn therapist and it’s been interesting to read the unmasked blurbs of women she’s collected over the years. One mom candidly talked about how sleep deprivation and feeling overwhelmed led to her fanticize about drowning or throwing her infant out the window. It was both sad, and real.
I think when faced with something new, challenging and something society says we’re supposed to be good at, we either fail brilliantly & we suffer or we adopt and move on. Ok, so maybe we don’t fail, we just redefine success because as new mothers, the only barometers we have are what other mothers have told us. When really, our own child is our only barometer and we’re in new territory. There are no maps or rule books for how our child will be. They either eat and sleep in a way that we can handle, or they don’t. I suspect since there are so many people walking around, we cope & the kid grows into another phase for us to fret about.
However, I don’t know. Again, this is all armchair, my baby is still incubating & I’m still trying to get to know him, without ever having met him outside of his pot. I do know I’ll do my best with him and that’s all I can promise. The rest, the rest is a journey. (At least that what I tell myself so I don’t freak out at night and jump off the patio.)
Anyhow, it’s getting late. I’m off this week, taking a mini vacation to do absolutely nothing. I plan to spend lots of time reading, eating, watching bad tv, visiting some people and organizing the kid’s closet. I figure it’s the last time I’ll have before I hatch Cheeto and before the third trimester hits and I feel like a small whale. Sidenote: I’m not a huge pregnant woman, but sometimes, I do feel epic.