Friday, February 15, 2013

A Confession

I have a confession to make.  And I didn't decide to write this post easy.  It took a lot of talking to numerous friends who have been supporting my theory, while comforting and assuring me, all at the very same time.  So here is my confession...

I am going to be a horrible mother.

Now stick with me for a minute while I explain.

I'm kind of selfish.

I like having my own space. 

I like having my free time. 

I like 8 hours of sleep. 

If I see someone else throw up, I throw up. 

I hate the smell of pee (yes, even my own). 

If my hands are sticky or dirty I go start to feel like I'm losing my sanity.

I greatly dislike most other people's children.

I think most babies are ugly.

The idea of sharing my body sometimes creeps me out.

And all of these things are true.  I am well aware how many say this all goes away when it's your own, but does it really?  I do question the validity of that term.  Are "they" (whoever they are) being truthful?  Or is this just a way to trick us all into having kids so we continue the human race?  I mean, people have multiple children so there has to be *some* truth to these words, right?

I'm just concerned for myself as a human being for how I will be as a mother.  I've "mothered" before, but he was already walking and mostly talking by the time I came along and was on the spectrum and while that had it's own challenges, he was perfectly happy drifting off into his own world for a few hours and letting me do my thing.  Which mostly entailed watching him with pure fascination as he went into his own world or watching the same Disney movie for the hundredth time because I am a sucker for a good Disney movie.  A baby is a whole other story.  A toddler who is not on the spectrum is a whole other story.  I know how to handle that (as much as one can handle that).  I'm not sure I can handle normal.

And what if my kid ends up being one of those crazy geniuses who surpassed me in intelligence by their 5th birthday and goes to Harvard by their 10th.  WTF am I supposed to do with that kid??

Or worst of all... what if my baby is a girl who actually wants to be a girl?  I don't get girls.  I'm one by sexual organs and preference only (i.e. I like boys).  I fart, I burp, I watch football with intense focus and often frightening aggressiveness, I don't wear dresses or skirts, I hate the color pink, and while I played with dolls as a child I can't fathom having them in my house now... with their creepy beady eyes staring at me in the night.  Worst of all, what if I have a son and build these horrible expectations of him being a football player and he wants to be an artist?  Oh wait... I married a guy like that.  OK, I think in that regards I'll be OK. 

But seriously, these are the 1001 thoughts that have been running through my head every since we saw that little heart beat tickering away on the ultrasound screen.  For as many years as I spent researching pregnancy and trying to get pregnant I never once pictured what life would be like AFTER that point.  Now that I'm there, I'm freaking out a little.

I'm told to some sense this is normal and it'll all go away once I meet my beautiful baby... whatever sex it may be.  Again, this may be true.  It makes sense, I suppose.  But I don't foresee myself accepting this as the inevitable outcome until I've already met my baby.  I'm excited for that day, but freaked out of my mind at the very same time.

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