What She Wore: Jeans; black and white polka-dot, button-down shirt with a peter pan collar; black snow boots.
Having a child was not a decision that I took lightly–it was only after four years of marriage that I seriously began to consider it. My fears about raising children always involved the child itself. I’ve worked with at-risk teens for years now, and "children" always brought to mind snarly, damaged beings who shut their parents out and engage in self-destructive behaviors. Even my adolescence–which I came through nicely–was filled with hard times. My depression alone was something that I would never want to re-live, much less re-live it through my children.
Despite all these misgivings, I began to realize that my house would not be a home without children. The very soul of my idea of "family" included birthday parties, grandmas, slumber parties, and passing down recipes to the next generation. And have you ever been in a room with a baby? The whole room gravitates over to greet it. There is something so magical about those creatures, and I knew that I wanted to experience them for myself.
I meticulously planned for this decision. Before I was trying to get pregnant, I read baby naming books and websites. I read up on measures to take before conception. I walked the aisles at Target, talked to mothers, planned nursury themes, and scrutinized the family budget to see if being a stay-at-home mom was an option.
None of this planning prepared me for the reality that is pregnancy. Suddenly, I feel very alone in my journey. My husband is there every night, but he cannot feel this baby as it moves inside of me, and practices for life outside the womb. I spent the first half of this pregnancy afraid that something would happen. As I rapidly approach the point of viability, I am turning a corner–there will be a baby. I will be a mother. I realize how much faith I have put in my husband–the I do’s of marriage are nothing like the bond we will share with this baby. We are forever joining ourselves together–whether we want that or not. Even I, who loves my husband dearly, and who trusts him like no other, am struck by the gravity of this agreement. People talk about walls–about putting them up to keep themselves safe in realtionships. I guess even I had a few walls I couldn’t see.
I don’t mean to make this about my marriage. It’s really just about the hugeness of the whole thing. They say your whole life will change–and I knew that it would–I just didn’t realize how deeply, and how far-reaching that change will be. And the baby isn’t even here yet! There’s a song we sing in church sometimes and the lyrics are like this: "When you and I embrace surrender. . you and I will see who we were meant to be." I think it’s time. I can’t plan it all, I can’t see the future. I’ve laid it on the line;I hope it works out.