Yesterday I reached the 7 month mark and now I am in the 3rd trimester. I will have a post with photos and such and talk about how I’m feeling later in the week or early next week. Until then, something else has popped up that I wanted to write about.
Sometimes it scares me that my time alone with Kamel is ticking quickly away. I only have 3 more months left of just us two. Even typing that makes my adrenaline pump, like I’m headed toward a cliff. We talk about it. We make plans to have alone time, we talk about how having an infant isn’t like having an automatic 15 year old, we reassure ourselves that we are a team. But it’s still scary.
There are a few other things, too.
Sometimes I think: Who will I be after all of this pregnancy stuff is over? What will I be capable of? What will my body be like? What will being a mom on top of my other many hats do to my ambitions? To my self? To… how people perceive me and who I am on the inside? I have ideas, I have parenting “philosophies” (Which pretty much boil down to: I am mom, not your best friend. Consistency. Bed times. No TVs in bedrooms. Love. Protection. Adult/Child boundaries.), I have goals and plans for the next many years… but what the hell do I know? I’m driving toward a big dark expanse that is only illuminated as I inch along. Maybe I’m going to mess it all up. Maybe I’ve done something that will change the course of my personal goals and career forever. Maybe I won’t like it. What if I don’t like it? What if it’s amazing? What if it’s harder than anything I could have ever dreamed of? What if it’s not as hard as people say?
Sometimes, in life, at work, around, etc, people make comments about me becoming a mom.
“Is that the kind of mom you’ll be?”
“You’re going to be a great mom!”
“Is that your mom coming out? Watch out!”
I don’t feel like a mom. And I can honestly say, I hope to be a really badass one, but … I don’t really know. I feel like I should know because in 3 months I will be one. Like a magician with a magic wand. Poof, I’m a mom. And a wife. And a Lauren. And a writer. And a goofball. And neurotic. And a best friend/sister/person/lady thing.
Change is ridiculous. We want it, we run towards it. We want the new house and the new job and the new boyfriend, we want to shed our single life and attach ourselves to another person forever and ever. Sometimes I look at myself and think: My god. I am PREGNANT. How did I get this way? How did this all happen? I just marched along, doing the things, and here I am! And not that it wasn’t thought of and discussed and decided. It was. But sometimes I am still surprised I’m not late for English class, and I don’t have a test in AP US History on Thursday. And how did I get to this place? Where did I park the car? I survived grad school, got married, and now I am full on, mother of a soon to be boy (A BOY?!), pregnant.
Sometimes time is so slow it stretches out in all directions. And sometimes it is so fast I can’t catch my breath.