Will Labour be as hard as I've imagined?
I have been told some horrific labour stories. Tales of three days worth of pain, mystery medical problems, blood, guts and gore. Women love to share, particularly when it comes to sharing their birthing stories. So far I have found two camps.
The first has almost stopped me wanting this child before I've given birth. Tales of thirteen pound babies, emergency C-sections, spewing, fainting dads and then they start talking about their lady parts. Oh these women.
The second group tell me that none of it matters. That it's painful, of course but that it all goes out of your head the moment you hold that bundle of joy. These women paint childbirth in a warm glowing light, the kind that shines through your living room window, late on a sunny afternoon.
The logical part of my head knows you are both right but I just feel like I need that sunny disposition brigade at the moment or I fear I will be doing everything in my power to hold this baby in.
What will my body look like after I've had a baby?
Pregnancy has changed my body beyond recognition and nothing I had read, nothing I was told could prepare me for the morphing stomach, stretching skin, itching and aching that has occurred. I know that it is beautiful. I know it should be embraced but it has made me question what will be left after this baby has vacated its temporary abode? Will those red stretch marks ever fade? What should I do about that spider vein that has appeared on the inside of my leg? What will I see when I can finally bend down far enough to shave my own legs and attend to my own toes? When I am no longer this vessel what will I be? Should I even care anymore?
Will my relationship be OK?
On a serious note, I have worried about my relationship. These worries do not come from a rational place. My relationship is good, we make a great team but this extra person changes everything. I wonder what it will be like when we become three. Will I always remember to be patient when I am tired and will he remember that I need an extra hand now and again? I question if we will recognise the people we were prior to us starting a family and if that will be enough to get us through the long nights and longer days.
What If I can't do it?
Seriously, What if I can't? What if I am a terrible parent who has had thirty two years only looking out for herself. What if I am not like my own mother who selflessly doted on me from day one? I don't craft. I never bake. One of my main plus points for shacking up with a fabulous Chef was that I'd never need to cook! I have a shoe and handbag collection that was destined to fill the room that will now become my nursery and until now my most prized possessions have been purchased at great cost. Will I really be able to do this?
Will I still be me?
I spent my 20's trying to find me. You know what I mean. I read the books, I spent time alone. I learned what made me happy and how I wanted to live my life. I stupidly thought I had it figured out. Now what? I'm going to change, I have to. I'm going to be someone's mother! Will I still be me? Will I still think it's perfectly acceptable to drink half bottles of champagne while doing some ironing? Will afternoon tea on my own be a thing that I enjoy anymore? What if this woman that I fought so hard to figure out, goes away? Who will I be without her?
Like all good fears, mine stem from the unknown.
I don't know what it's like to give birth and whatever anyone tells me, their experience won't be mine.
I don't know how hard it will be, how I will cope, feel or the effect that it will have on my life, my relationship and my plans.
I do know that it is happening.
That my questions above will be answered and that I still have a lot of time to scare myself senseless with other people's version of motherhood, glowing yellow light or not.