So, I started writing a pretty negative post today about how I’ve been feeling judgment, and I was going to be quite yell-y and probably judgmental myself towards the people and groups of people who I perceived were judging me. Then I went to Mass, and, as it usually happens, I was struck over the head with a spiritual 2×4. The gospel today included this story: Continue reading “Plank in My Eye”
Pregnancy is harder than the adoption wait. I’ve officially decided. Pregnancy is the hardest way to have a child.
This doesn’t take anything away from the agony of the adoption wait. I did it. I know how hard it is. But I also know if do it again if I had to. Because it’s worth it. Because Vincent is 100% worth every bit of worry and disappointment and getting your hopes up that comes with the adoption wait.
But pregnancy is hard. There’s other way to say it. And I was woefully naive as to think it would be a piece of cake. I used to look at pregnant women and think, ‘They’re so happy. They look beautiful and everything looks so effortless and easy.’ And it was something I’ve wanted so badly-to be a mom. To bear children. I knew I could do whatever it took and never once complain. People who complained about being pregnant were ungrateful and didn’t truly appreciate the miracle their bodies could accomplish.
I’m eating my words. Sort of. Continue reading “Pregnancy is the Hardest Way to Have a Child”
I’m officially past the point where I miscarried in my last pregnancy. This was a big mental block for me in this pregnancy. I needed to make it past 8 weeks 3 days with relatively few complications, and I did it.
I had my doctor’s appointment today, and he said everything is looking good. I heard a strong heartbeat which made me cry, and I measured at 9 weeks instead of 8 weeks 4 days which I don’t think really means anything right now – especially since one of my friends told me that my due date will constantly change based on how I’m measuring. I suppose it’s not an exact science, although it’s pretty amazing that a tiny being growing inside of my body has it’s own distinct heartbeat. And that I can hear it. Continue reading “8 Weeks 4 Days”
I’m sure that every mom at some point has the fear that their child will one day “hate” them or tell them they wished they lived with someone else or tell them they wished they weren’t their mom. I think it’s a normal thing. I’m not sure I ever said those words aloud to my parents, but I know I thought them. I wished I could live with my aunts or my cousins many times. Deep down, I never really meant any of it, and I knew that living somewhere else wasn’t going to be better than the life I had growing up, still, kids can be mean and say hurtful things.
The phrase I’m most worried about hearing: “You’re not my real mom.”