For many years, having a child was the thing I desired most of all. Unlike other desires, I couldn’t articulate why. It was beyond language. I want to study blah because blah; I want to work at blah because blah. Obvious, easy. Why did I want a child? I just did. My cells did. For all my concern about bringing another carbon footprint into the world, I couldn’t hush a life-longing, that I put aside until the time was right.
When I try to explain the complex emotions of pregnancy, the words elude me. I am consumed by fear and desire for the baby. Fear that she will die inside me; hope that she will be alive when she comes out. My happiness is anchored to something I cannot control. It is not entirely comfortable. It is not the pastel-hued seventh heaven that pregnancy books speak of. Suddenly, I have so much more to lose.
Continue reading...from Pregnancy | The Guardian http://ift.tt/2iwCzMY
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