For the past few months, I find myself to be in familiar territory. Yet at the same time, very new territory. Instead of being cryptic about it like I have been with everyone lately, I’ll just say it – I’m pregnant. These past 12 weeks have been an emotional roller coaster for me.
Despite
the fact that this pregnancy was “planned”, and that I am now married, because of
the situation I was in just 2 years ago when my son was born, it feels somehow
like I’m doing the wrong thing by being pregnant. It has been so confusing for
me dealing with all of these emotions. I feel like I’m betraying my son, I feel
like I don’t really deserve to parent this baby, and I’m terrified that
something is going to happen to take this baby away from me. Some days I feel
so scared to connect with this baby because my connection with my birth son was
so immediate and so fierce and that has led me to become vulnerable to a lot of
hurt and pain. This baby is no more or less wanted than my birth son was, and
will be no more or less loved. But I’m not going to lie, it’s almost scarier this time.
Going
to doctor appointments is scarier. Now I have to answer questions like “is this
your first child?” or “and how is your other child, is he healthy?” Well, I’d
assume so, haven’t heard otherwise! Telling my family was horrifying in a
different way this time too. When I first told my parents, I had to say it all
very quickly in one sentence so they wouldn’t ask questions that I didn’t want
to hear. It came out something like “we’re pregnant but it was planned so don’t
worry and this needs to be a good thing so I need you to be happy about it”. I
think I was more nervous telling them this time than I was last time (granted,
last time I did tell them in an email). Facing the public is scarier. People
constantly assume that this is my first pregnancy. They like to give me advice
on what to expect, and tell me things like that my baby probably won’t be too
big because I’m very small. Oh really? Because my son was 8lbs 12oz, so I’d say
that’s pretty big! But I don’t say that. I don’t correct them. It hurts too
badly to go down that road. I hate the fact that I'm terrified of telling people because I'm afraid of their reaction.
Around
week 6 or so, the baby is the size of a lentil. During that week, I sent my
husband a picture of some lentil soup and told him how I really wanted to eat
it, but told him I couldn’t do it because it felt like cannibalism. I was half
kidding, but waited to eat the soup. Ever since then, we call the baby The
Lentil. I hope that loving the Lentil won’t make my birth son feel betrayed in
the future. I know how very much and how very strongly I loved my birth son
from the very beginning. I’m almost scared that I won’t be able to love the
Lentil enough. I have missed my birth son more in these last 12 weeks than I expected
to, and there have been a lot of emotions come up for me that I didn’t
anticipate.
I
hate the fact that whether a pregnancy is planned or not matters, but it does
seem to matter to other people. Yes, my husband and I planned to have this
Lentil (although we did think it would take us a little bit longer than…immediately),
and no, my birth son was not planned. But you know what? Both of my babies were
wanted. And both of my babies are loved. Mom, birth mom, step mom, all of my titles
aside. I will always love all of my children more than they can possibly understand,
something my own mom used to tell me, and now I do understand. I hope they know
that. I hope I will always be a positive person in their lives, someone they
can look up to. I may not have it all together, nobody really does. But what I
do have is an endless supply of love. And hugs to give. Just ask my husband. I’m
sure it drives him crazy sometimes.
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