Nine months pregnant and a new year.

It’s almost unreal. His bouncer has been assembled, his dresser is in the works, and I’ve started opening the many, many boxes that have been sitting in my living room for the past few months. I’m going to wash his sheets and do his laundry this weekend, so I can pack my bag and finally be ready to go.

I feel so prepared and yet so terrified.

Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. That’s the way I’ve always lived my life. It’s sort of a nerve-wracking way to live, but it’s the best way to avoid disappointment. It’s the way I protect myself from being vulnerable.

But it’s too late for that now.

It took me a long time to open boxes. I’ve been preparing for this moment for almost 9 months, and now that it’s here, I can’t help but panic.

What if I slip and fall when I’m coming out of the shower? What if I’m assaulted?

What if I lose my baby now?

Or worse. What if there are complications at his birth? What if he’s sleeping snugly in his bassinet, and I wake up to find a victim of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS)?

What if I fail at this whole thing?

I can’t lose him now.

I keep thinking back to articles I’ve read on SIDS. It always seemed sad, but when you’re becoming a mother — when you’re in your ninth month of pregnancy — it just seems unbearable. Imagine carrying this child in your womb for ten months, bonding with him from the moment you laid eyes on his goofy little ultrasound, enduring eight or nine or ten or eighteen hours of labor to bring him to life, using your body to nourish him, and then all of a sudden, he’s gone.

How could anyone survive that?

It’s not what I should be thinking about, but I can’t help myself. I didn’t think people could die until Kerry did it. It’s easy to get by heartache-free when you’ve never been close to anyone, and I did that pretty well for almost 20 years.

That’s all out the window now.

So, here’s to being totally and completely vulnerable. Here’s to loving someone so immensely that the thought of losing him might actually kill me. Here’s to a lifetime ahead with the love of my life, Maxwell Edison.

Happy new year, friends!

Last thing: check out what I bought. Because I’m a nerd.

OK, real last nerdy thing: I really want the Labyrinth baby’s outfit for Max. And, oh my god, wouldn’t it be awesome if I got a wig and dressed up as David Bowie and dressed him up as the stolen baby?! AND THEN WE COULD RECREATE THIS VIDEO.

So excited for him to be alive but also not have a say in the matter.

That is all.


One thought on “Nine months pregnant and a new year.

  1. Jess, slow that rocketing brain down. Since you realize you are having such a strong combination of fear and doubt, start talking to some of your friends who have children and share what you are going through with them. Get some input on how they handled this. You will find you are far from alone. Part of what you are going through is definitely induced by your experiences in life, and that’s okay. Look back on everything you have overcome my dear Jessica… Remember how bad things *were* and remember where you are in the present.

    Things can unfortunately happen, but part of what you are feeling is a normal fear of losing the goodness you have now. Your unborn son, your freedom from your abusive relationship, losing Kerry, the experiences you had with your parents growing up… Jess, it’s a normal reaction. Just slow your brain down.

    The part that comes from being worried pregnant mother, I can’t help you with, but the influences of the past… I understand how overwhelming that can be.

    You’ll be just fine, and Max will be beautiful.

    Love you,


tell me what you see:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s