Scared shitless
This is what scares me:
- That when Critter is born, life as I know it is over.
- I will never again have a full night’s sleep.
- I will never again be able to finish reading a book.
- I will never again be able to splurge on expensive body lotion or a new purse.
- I will never again wear those cute little jeans I only got to wear, like, twice before my belly ballooned.
- I will never again be young and attractive [go with me on this, and let’s assume I was at one point in the last four years young and attractive].
- I will never again have a day to myself.
- I will never be able to keep up with this blog.
- I will never be able to afford anything, because house and baby and childcare will suck up all our money.
- I will irrevocably fuck this child up in some way.
- I will alienate all my current friends and never be able to make new friends.
- I will be exhausted, miserable, and overwhelmed.
This is what keeps me going:
- Everyone says it’s worth it.
- I already love The Critter, and we’ve never even met.
- Iain promises to help me.
- It can’t be that bad …
Why is pregnancy and labor and motherhood so full of horror stories, warnings, calamities, crises and pain? The vague “it’s so worth it” blather does nothing to reassure me. Is it? Because you don’t seem to realize how dependent I am on sleep and food. And I rather liked having my body to myself. And I enjoy sitting quietly, reading. And frankly, I can’t imagine coping with a new baby AND working full-time. Fuck, or part-time, for that matter.
In short, I’m scared shitless, and maybe it’s childish, and some of it is admittedly immature; maybe it’s a normative part of the process of becoming a mother, or whatever, but it’s still terrifying, and I’m trying to reassure myself but I’m not doing a very good job. Which does not bode well for future tasks of reassurance I’ll undoubtedly have to undertake.
I know I’m supposed to be afraid of childbirth, but duh. Fairly obvious it’s a painful procedure, no? Years and years of human history have made that evident. Therefore not an unknown, therefore not scary. I’ve dealt with hospitals and surgeries and pain, and I’m not really scared. It’s what comes after that terrifies me. As a mom-to-be, I should be glowing and painting the nursery and poring over baby name books, not wondering when I’m going to fit into my pre-preg jeans or worrying whether I’ll get enough rest. Conclusion: Am far too unrealistic and immature to be having a child, will never make it, might as well hand it over to the authorities.
Will likely go to hell for even mentioning any of this.
On a slightly, ever so slightly related note: Saw Kill Bill Vol. 2 last night. Bawled my eyes out. Feeling rather weary at the moment. Sure it will all pass, as it so often does. Check for sunnier emotional weather in about 20 minutes.
This post brought to you by: Are The Good Times Really Over For Good by Merle Haggard.
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5 Responses to “Scared shitless”
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None of the above. I predict you will be a supacool mom who find time for yourself, while still raising a supacool kid. Just follow your instincts and TRY (I KNOW how hard it can be for the first baby) not to get sucked into the hype about having Stroller X or Baby Carrier Z. In the larger scope of things, none of that stuff matters.
It really isn’t as bad all that. Your social life will be pretty handicapped from now on, but you’ll get back to full night’s sleep by 6 months or so.
You can still finish books, it just takes a little longer.
You can still splurge on things, just not as many as you used to.
The fears remain (i.e. fucking the kid up, alienating your friends), but if you stop to consider every possible thing that could go wrong in pregnancy, childbirth, and raising the thing, you’ll spend the last trimester locked in a closet. Worrying about warping your child is the first step to avoiding it (Parents Anonymous?), after all, and your real friends will be happy to accept the new addition into their lives. One warning: it takes a concerted effort to keep from talking nonstop about your baby. Even the best of friends get bored with that in a hurry.
It’s a lot of work and money, don’t get me wrong, but after 8 1/2 months with my own little girl, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Except maybe the smell.
For starters, you are the cutest pregnant girl ever and will probably end up being the “cool” funky mom who has all the kids over her house and starts a feminist baby sitters club. Watch and see… Let me know what you need in baby stuff, my mom is on the search and destroy mission for goodies for you (humor her she likes to “mom”) and wants the info.
Kristalyn
Battling Spiders and Dry Counties in Mississippi
Thanks for the reassurances, you guys. I feel much better already, which sounds corny but it’s true.
having just gone through all these fears up until 6 months ago this week… I can assure you most of them are just fears…
I can say, your life will change, but its all generally for the best. The small things will mater even less, and the big things will never be as big again.