You know what’s not as much fun as you might think it would be? Observing while your husband and friends get pissed drunk around you. Because by the time everyone is pretty much incoherent and slurring loudly, you’re very much ready to drink yourself, if only to dull the pain. But when you’re in the condition that I’m in, you just can’t do that. And when you’re in said condition, the littlest things aggrieve you. I suppose I’m going to have to get used to it though, because when you have alcoholic family and friends like I do, watching everyone get drunk is pretty much inevitable. Not that I’d rather hang out in a church group or anything like that.
You wouldn’t know it by reading the things I’ve written for the past couple days, but I’m surprisingly pleasant as a pregnant person. You’d think a person like me would have every reason not to be pleasant. Number 1, I’m just plain bitchy. Give me a topic, I’ll complain about it. Number 2, I didn’t even want kids until I was like, 35. I was almost sure that I’d never be ready. Now I have to be ready at the moment when I felt the least ready. Number 3, this involves acting like I have some level of maturity and responsibility, which I’ve caught on to quite nicely. I’ve quit smoking with no problem at all, I merely sit idly by as my everyday peeps drink their faces off, I say no, no, no! when someone offers me an alcoholic or caffeinated beverage. But it is disconcerting feeling like I have to be mother while everyone around me, including my baby’s daddy(ha, I’ve been waiting to say that), is still having fun playing. It makes me wonder if things are always going to be that way.
Maybe my outward pleasantry is just because I’m retaining my inner turmoil. Maybe I sound so bitchy here because this is the one place where I refuse to censor my feelings (for the most part). I’d like to say that I’m at perfect peace with the fact that my whole life has just flipped upside down, but I’m not. I have terrible waves of self-doubt and uneasiness that freak me out. I have guilty feelings when I think, “I’m not ready for this.” On the other hand, I burst into tears of joy when I imagine seeing my baby for the first time, and I smile when I think about my husband singing to my stomach in a few months when the baby can finally hear us. So when I have my feelings of doubt and frustration, I just remind myself that I’m not the first person to ever be the mother of an unplanned baby, and that my circumstances are much better than most women. I’m older, I’m educated, I’m married to a great guy and I have tons of family and friends who are super supportive.
End psycho rant. Maybe next time I’ll be able to talk about something other than being with child.