Next week, I have a doctor’s appointment to remove my I.U.D.
Even typing that sentence sends chills across my body. Chills of excitement, because it means that my husband and I are about to start trying for a baby. Wow! Finally. We’ve been waiting for this moment since we got married two and a half years ago. But I also have chills of nervousness, because this means that things are about to get real.
I was up for hours last night, my mind racing with thoughts. My husband and I have always wanted a baby, but we wanted to be financially secure first. And then, during the process of paying off our credit cards and my husband’s law school loans, I decided to go back to school for my master’s degree in creative writing. I realized I’d definitely want to fulfill my educational dreams before settling in to take care of a child.
So, I enrolled in an accelerated low-residency program at Wilkes University in Pennsylvania–and after visiting Wilkes four times in the past year and a half for intensive courses on campus–I graduated in June with my master’s degree. Hooray! Mission, accomplished.
Now, for the next mission: Baby. I’ve had my appointment set to remove my I.U.D. for several months. As it looms closer, I’m incredibly excited. So excited that I often think about it when I’m trying to sleep at night. And with the excitement, as I mentioned, often comes fear.
For example, how is the baby going to ever fit inside of me? I’m not skin and bones, but I’m certainly not fat. My waist is small, and my hips are larger. Sometimes I’m terrified that my body won’t expand enough in the right places to accommodate eight pounds of baby, let alone to participate in my favorite yoga classes.
I also wonder how I’ll get along without my nightly glasses of wine; whether morning sickness will strike; and how I can possibly learn all there is to know about babies in nine months. Once the baby comes, how will I function on close to zero hours of sleep? And not to mention, how will I get through labor in the first place? It will probably hurt so badly that I’ll want to die.
I’m sure that none of these fears are new. But I also have an inherent sense of primal wisdom that all of the anxiety will be worth it. When the baby does arrive, I’ll be filled with so much love for my child that I won’t remember these concerns.
As my husband and I begin trying for a baby, I’m going to try my hardest to be in the moment–and to acknowledge my fears when they arise, but to keep my eye on the prize.
In the end, having that sweet baby in my arms is all that matters.