This is a moment I’ve been dreading basically all day. My 500 words. Why am I even doing this?
I know why. The answer is easy. I’m doing this because I love to write. Because it used to be so therapeutic for me and I miss it. Because I never feel like I have the time anymore even though I really do. Because I’m lazy.
The problem is that, despite my motivations, it’s hard to settle on something to write about. When I was in high school it was easy. I could write about boys and love and friends and blah blah blah. But now, as an adult, I have valid opinions and thoughts about things. I have to write about things that make sense to my life as it is now.
And let’s face it, being an adult doesn’t really “make sense” at all. Nothing in life makes sense. It’s hard and it’s scary and its long. If it were easy it would be called death.
So what is relevant to my life now. Well, I’m married. That sure is something. I’m pregnant. That’s something too. A big something. A big, scary, messy something.
People tell me all the time how rewarding it is to have children. I mean, just today I heard that very phrase from more people than I can count. And I believe it, I’m not saying I don’t, but being faced with the prospect of being a parent for the first time is truly the most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to me in my life. I know it could be worse. I could be doing this all alone. And I’m so incredibly lucky to have someone as amazing as Ryan there to do this with me, but that doesn’t make it any less scary.
I mean, how do you ever know if you’re doing the right thing? People are so opinionated when it comes to raising children these days. Literally everyone has a different set of “rules” they tell you you should follow and they all contradict each other. Do you breastfeed or formula feed? Co sleep or use a crib? How should you discipline them? When should they be walking and talking? What type of preschool do you send them to? Literally every decision you can make regarding a child, someone will tell you you’re making the wrong one.
It just makes the whole experience seem so scary. I’m co scantly afraid I’m going to make one wrong choice and screw my child up for life. That my kid is going to think I never loved them if I decide not to breastfeed them and then in 25-30 years when they have children of their own they’re going to look back on their childhood and think “shit the last thing I want to do is raise my child they way mom and dad raised me.”
I know, I know, I’m probably completely overthinking this. Everyone in the world is raised differently in some way and we’ve all turned out well for the most part. (Ok maybe not all of us….) I’m sure that Ryan and I will be just fine…….. I mean, I hope.