Pregnancy Fears

I took my daughter to see New Orleans in April. We both wanted to see the city and I also knew our lives (13 years of it being just the two of us) were about to change forever. We had a wonderful time in those short three days, dining at 7am and returning to our hotel in the French Quarter late in the evening.

My mom, sister, and her 9 month old son were also with us. Every time one of them would rub my tummy I would jump back like an electric shock passed into me. My sister asked what was wrong. I said, "Nothing. I just need to wait until the doctor tells me everything is O.K. and then I will get excited."

When I was a child, I had a secret fear that I would grow up and have a baby that would need to be in the "special class." I would never make fun of those kids; I knew it was wrong, but more importantly, I feared God would "teach me a lesson" by giving me one to care for. Mind you, I was also afraid of making faces at my younger sister, for fear my face would freeze in that position.

So, here I am with a daughter who is more mature than I am, who is in honor classes in school, who has a wicked sense of humor. She was so easy to raise, that when people asked me how I did it, I often replied, "Just add water." My childhood fears were not realized: my daughter was a close to perfect as one could expect AND my face did not freeze in some horrid expression. (Note: I now have laugh lines starting by my eyes.)

Now I was pregnant again, and the first fear was back.