People keep asking me if I am, and I don’t mind, but rest assured that we will inform the world at large when I’m not. The due date isn’t until Friday, so I’m not holding my breath. I am going a tiny bit mad though.
The truth is, I’ve been feeling a little wobbly. Having been very upbeat and uncharacteristically un-anxious throughout the pregnancy, the past week or so has seen me dissolve into terror. Not of the birth- I’m still remarkably cavalier about that trifling matter!- but of the bit afterwards, you know, the baby bit.
I’ve had depression in the past, so I’m concerned about that reoccurring post-baby. And I have worries (which I’m assured are normal, but don’t always feel that way) about bonding with the baby- not least the big falling-in-love moment which is accepted as what just happens when your baby is placed in your arms. The thing is, I’m not one to fall into things quickly, be it a decision or an emotion. And my head at the moment feels so clouded with anxieties about caring for the baby and life with the baby, that I can’t imagine feeling so carefree as to be able to fall in love in an instant.
I have a lot of support, and in that respect I’m very lucky. And I know that however I feel, I will be committed to doing everything that the Bean needs to be happy and comfortable. And that is without doubt the most important thing and my top priority. Which shows, I suppose, that I already do love the Bean.
But there is an awful lot of pressure to feel the right way- too much pressure. It makes a person feel guilty for even worrying about these things. It’s actually quite scary to put myself out there and write about it. But though I’m told that lots of women have these worries, nobody ever seems to say them out loud. Perhaps they should.