Amateur Mother-To-Be

What did you feel when you saw those two pink lines?

Maybe you know how to answer that right away - maybe you were filled with pure joy. Maybe it was a confirmation that this is the moment you've been waiting for for a long, long time. Or, maybe you didn't quite believe it, but there it was.

Just typing that questions makes me sit quietly for a while. I think back to that Christmas Eve morning - how I wasn't even planning on taking a test that day, but thought, "hey, why not?" And I think back to previous mornings when I would take the test and what I felt during those long 90 seconds. I would go back forth - half hoping it would confirm a pregnancy but also talking myself down at the same time, saying to myself that "yeah, probably not..."

I think I was mostly in shock. I sat back in the bed and looked at Scott who was getting ready to head into work.

"So... umm... I have some news." Definitely hesitant. Kind of giddy, but certainly anxious.

"I know. You're pregnant."

What the heck??? He said he just had a feeling that I was probably pregnant now. He just knew. Just like that - no tests, no lines, no 90 seconds. And it seemed so natural to him, like knowing I was pregnant was the same as knowing the next day was Christmas.

Ever since then, I've struggled with legitimately answering the ever-prominent, however mostly unspoken, issue of my level of excitement. It seemed like that was what you were supposed to say when you announce you're expecting "Yes, we are due in August and we are so excited." "We are very excited to have a girl" If asked, would I really say no? Of course not! I suppose, yes, we are generally excited. Yet, excitement is not how I would characterize the majority of my feelings toward carrying a child right now.

My feelings are more like this - scared out of my mind. I know it is the right time - we will be almost 27 and 31 and do want a handful of kids. Scott started a great job as a federal employee and we finally found a house. Also, not that pregnancy should be a bandwagon kind of thing, but many of our friends have children, mostly two now, or even three. I prayed to be able to have children, and there was my answer. And it was answered with each following test (I guess I'm one to double check), ultrasound, and heartbeat. It continues to be answered with every kick and hiccup I feel.

So here we are. We have the crib, the stroller, the car seat. We picked a color to paint her bedroom. We have a very small list of names we actually (kind of) agree upon.

But none of this makes me a mother. Let along an excited mother.

I see friends online who excitedly purchase outfits, take weekly belly pictures, write monthly letters to their unborn child, all in great anticipation. They are EXCITED. Me? I take the hand-me-down clothes and monitor with gratitude, but mostly without realizing that I will be using them soon. VERY soon.

Then, of course, my selfishness kicks in. Following a nice swim after work, I come home to eat a quick dinner with Scott while watching TV. All I can do is comment on how life will be so different in a couple of months. That nothing will be the same (except for probably the quick dinner). And I worry. I worry about how I will function on little to no sleep. I worry about how my body will recover. I worry about being responsible for another human being. I won't even begin to tell you how much I frighten myself just thinking about the act of giving birth.

As you can see, most of my worries are very self-centered. How terrible is that? I do have secondary concerns about my ability to parent, but there are really just that - secondary to myself. I do fret over screwing up this kid. But I think that it isn't as big of an issue because I know that if I am doing the right things - spiritually, physically, mentally, fiscally, then my children should be okay. If my own house is in order, then I believe that my children will see that example and things will fall into place (to be sure, with much guidance). If I am faithful and diligent in my spiritual beliefs and do the things to help make those beliefs stronger, the same goes for this child. If I set goals to be physically fit, mindful of others, and debt-free, then hopefully my child will witness the happiness those things bring and likewise have the same desires. Sounds so easy, right?

Knowing my personality, when I'm not sure how to do something, I'll look it up. I know I'll hit roadblocks, but I also know of the many resources at my disposal - scriptures, personal prayer and revelation, family, friends, and entire sections of book stores and libraries. I feel like it will be easier to fix something outside of myself rather that inside of myself. Unfortunately, to raise semi-decent children, I need to be semi-decent myself.

So what worries me the most is me. That I won't be diligent, I won't work hard, I'll get too tired, and I won't care. That I'll be too self-absorbed to see the needs of my children. That I'll be too lazy to build and ensure a warm, open, spiritual, orderly, and loving home.

Perhaps it is because I already see that I'm falling into this trap whilst pregnant. I always thought I had a vague idea of what kind of expectant mother I'd be - that I'd take the pictures, write little notes to my fetus, read a plethora of birth/pregnancy books, peruse baby sections of stores, compile a wish list of cute (albeit needless) goodies from Etsy. I thought I would be barefoot, refining my homemade bread recipe (still nonexistent), eating whole foods (not endless amounts of skittles), and decorating my new home to welcome baby (walls are still bare). I pictured weekends learning how to coupon and craft with the best, not to mention exercising with ease to maintain a decent weight.

What I didn't imagine was being utterly exhausted all the time. Or being hungry A LOT and wanting to come home and veg out to a movie. I didn't picture feeling so gigantic that I avoid cameras unless I'm having a particularly great day (this usually only happens when someone at work says something about looking great for being x weeks along). I felt so out of it, I stopped writing in a blog and journal, I stopped reading, and I let my thoughts wander to the negative. In essence, I let myself give up and resolved to that notion.

But you never hear about that part of it, do you? No pregnant woman ever says "well, actually, I'm incredibly nervous and have no idea how this will work out and effect my life and the life of my husband." Nope. Instead, they grin, say they feel great, and look forward to their due date.

A friend a church a couple of months ago said that she was finally excited to be a parent - 4 years after the birth of her son, and 3 kids later. I found great comfort in that. I'm sure it isn't something easy to admit, but I realized that this is what we do - we do what we need to do, what we should do, and press on. Even if we still maintain feelings of inadequacy, or lack the "right" feelings about parenthood, we have our children and we raise them the best we can. I guess I'm learning that it is okay to not be excited right now. It doesn't mean I've already failed. I can be scared - I just can't let it take over my life.

I also take much comfort in another thought heard at church recently: if we've tried our hardest, we haven't failed.

In the end, I think there is still hope for me yet. I can try harder to get ready. I can get excited. I can try hard to be a good parent. I don't know when I'll really feel like a mother, but I will try to be one. It's all I can do.