What I Meant Was...

Yesterday’s post was meant as an affirmation, not an admission of fear gripping me… ;o)
Let me explain.

Someone very close to me gave birth last Friday. And I got into a conversation with someone, or rather – someone started talking AT me about how I should deal with my pregnancy and giving birth. This person told me all about my fears and they knew how I felt and take it one contraction at a time and blah blah take advantage of every moment you have and blah you should be grateful for everything you have and…totally unsolicited, all this advice from a newly graduated pro of parenthood was poured into my ear.

I just felt like screaming right back at this person: “Let’s get one thing straight. You are not a tenant of my brain or my heart. I’d be making more cash if you were. You do not know how I feel. In fact, you are projecting all of your fears onto me right now. I am not afraid of giving birth. I am looking forward to it. I am having an exceptional, healthy, happy pregnancy and the little mini-aches I feel make me smile because they are leading to the birth of my daughter and I already love her. Giving birth is natural, it has been going on for oh – what – millions of years, and fuck you for assuming I am scared. And also, fuck you for being a pro all of a sudden.”

Ahhhh…Sigh. I feel much better. Sorry about that. This person I wanted to scream to I actually like a lot. It was just a condescending way to deal with me, and I do not appreciate being talked to like that. It insults me. But I am too nice to say Fuck You. Voilà.

The comments I got from my Urban Nomad and my favorite Brigitte were most welcome and appreciated, and I completely understand how one could have interpreted yesterday’s post as fear. Fear not, my beautifuls, I am not afraid. I have never felt this strong.