Two questions I've been thinking about a lot lately, or more so that have been haunting me lately...
Is it worth it?
Am I ready?
The first question I imagine will be answered once Oliver is actually here, in my arms. I imagine, from the fact that people still continue to plan to have children and most that have one have more than one... the answer will be yes. He will be worth the sleepless nights, the stretch marks, the pain and annoyance and uncomfortable situation I've been in for the last six months and will continue to be in for the foreseeable future. There are far too many people who have told me they loved being pregnant... I just can't see it. Can't imagine someone who would enter into this knowing full well what it was going to be. Then again, I imagine he's worth it. And if he is, I imagine that his siblings very well may be as well. Still... without knowing him, if someone had given me a preview of what it would be like... I think I would have decided against having children or at the very least waited until ... I don't know. Until I didn't care about what I looked like, until I didn't have to work, until... something. Probably wouldn't have happened though. I have hope I will have changed my opinion on the matter once Oliver is actually here. Hoping it's just a in the moment thing.'
But, am I ready? This I can most assuredly answer no. Not at all. I think when we decided to take this journey we thought we were ready. We must have, right? This pregnancy wasn't an oopsy daisy kind of thing. We planned it, wanted it. Decided we had our ducks in a row enough to add another member to our family. And then all our ducks died. Which probably is the main reason why we are not ready. We essentially depend on the baby shower to provide us everything we need for Oliver for at least the first month or so of his life. Though, really, I'm going to be out of commission, so... who knows. I hope that John gets the pay initially promised to him - that will help. But, the company seems to be severely back tracking. We couldn't afford for me to take off two months without a baby... so no, we're not ready.
Finances aside, am I ready? Am I ready to change diapers, breast feed, be spit up / pooped / peed on? Am I ready to have this living, breathing, learning, human being depend 100% on me for his very survival? I don't know. I've always assumed that this would be the easy part. That finances might be rough, but that taking care of the baby - that would be easy. But now as we're quickly approaching D-Day... I'm having second thoughts. We can't afford any of these childbirth preparation classes, which has me nervous - but I have faith in the internet and my own pain tolerance management to make it through. But then after? I can't count how many diapers I've changed, how many bottles I've made, how many stories read, and time outs issued. And yet... I am terrified to my very core that I won't know what I'm doing. That as soon as Oliver emerges into this world every child I've previously taken care of, every memory will vanish. I'll be left with a micro-human that may as well be an alien species. Then what? I love Johnathan but my faith in him to step up and be super dad is ... limited. He's never had the child experiences, so everything to him will be totally brand new. I can't just expect him to step in and do everything while I stare at Oliver like he's from Mars and I'm a paralytic robot. I don't have a nesting instinct, everything continues on the way it was. The baby stuff we've gotten so far remains packaged up and out of site as if we're trying to delay the inevitable, as if we can't accept what's knocking at our door.
So, you know, there's that. I've just adjusted to being pregnant. Granted, it hasn't been the easiest or most graceful of transitions, but I'm at the point where I can't really remember what it was like to not have life inside of me. I'm worried that the transition from pregnant to mother is going to be just as rough. And I can't exactly take six months to get used to the idea. It has to happen immediately, like flipping a light switch. Civilian to Officer with no training in an instant. I'm scared that I just won't be able to cut it. That I'll be shot out of the sky before I even earn my wings.
I've never really heard anyone else voice these things. So I wonder, am I the only one who feels this way? Johnathan seems to voice the same concerns. I know we can't be the only expectant parents in a planned pregnancy to be so completely and totally unprepared and terrified. Yet, does it make us bad people, does it predicate an awful parenthood? I'm not sure, and I really hope not. I hope that when Oliver comes into this world that right switches are flipped, the maternal instinct I've always had so strongly is reignited and instinct and love take over. They've gotten me this far, let's see what else they can do.