I read this blog post today over Coffee + Crumbs: A Letter to my Pre-Mom Self. And just like that, I welled up. Blame it on the hormones, as I've been prone to do the last few days. But it goes deeper than that. I don't know that I've always been resistant to change, or if I'm just growing increasingly crotchety and set in my ways in my old age. But I'm so scared of what's to come. Your Daddy and I spent some time this morning sorting through some secondhand baby clothes gifted to us by a co-worker. And as we oohed and ahhed over the adorable footie pajamas and sweater vests in our possession, I was haunted by this nagging feeling that I was just playing a part. Sure, the itty bitty baby socks were cute. But I can't for a second begin to imagine dressing someone in them. And not just someone, but my own flesh-and-blood son. A person whom I made and share DNA with. A person whom I'm supposed to love with a love I've never experienced before and do everything in my power to care for and protect.
It all just seems so foreign. I've never been a "kid" person. It's like I'm missing that instinctual good-with-kids gene that I've seen in so many of my friends and family. The one who derives joy from pushing them on a swing for hours on end. Or rushes to their aid when they fall down and scrape a knee. Usually in these situations, I look around panicked, for someone more qualified than myself to calm this upset child and squelch their hurts.
Even your kicks seem like a physical manifestation and reminder of my inadequacy. Sure, there's a small part of me that derives reassurance from those little bumps inside my belly. The reminder being that you are still alive and developing. But more often then not, I find myself thinking, "Cut it out, kid! I'm trying to fall asleep, here." This can't be a normal reaction!
I'm concerned that by writing this, one day you will read this and feel like you were unwanted. And I wonder if it's appropriate of me to reveal these thoughts. But I guess I'm hoping that if I talk to you like I would a friend, or confidante, that maybe I can overcome this disconnect. I'm hoping that maybe, just maybe another Mama or future Mama can relate to these words and I'll feel not so alone. I'm hoping that by writing this today, I will look back months from now in all of my new Mom glory and smile knowingly at my Pre-Mom self and think, "Sweetie, you have no idea how good it's about to get."