Posted by: cck | March 4, 2013


April 4, 2010

I’m not sure what to call this yet. I supposed it’s like a journal – which seems very self-indulgent considering I have a blog. But it’s also like a letter. A letter addressed to my future life.

K and I went to Sunrise Service this morning. It was early – earlier than I usually get up. It was beautiful. There wasn’t a sunrise, it was very foggy. But as the world around us grew lighter, and the fog lifted – it felt like I was supposed to be there.

Lately I have been burning with baby fever. I want you to know, family, that it’s not just baby. It’s not just tiny little socks and bows and polka dots. I cannot wait to meet you. I cannot wait to hold you and nurture you and teach you and learn from you. I feel this fierceness. This unbelievable yearning to know you. I have always been able to shake baby fever, but now – now I cannot take a breath without thinking about you.

I didn’t want children. I didn’t think I would be a good mother. And then I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and it just didn’t seem like it would work. I don’t want to pass this down to you. I don’t want to leave you – if it ever takes control of my brain. Then I met your father, and everything clicked. I want a family. I want it with K.  I want you.

Thankfully, there’s a lot stopping us. We’re still pretty broke, and I’d prefer if we weren’t. K and I just moved back together and even though I love our home, I really want a house for you first. And then there’s the whole I-want-to-be-a-stay-at-home-mom thing. Considering the economy it’s doubtful I would be able to freelance. And I don’t ovulate. So, that might be tough. And considering that K and I just got back on track (or, y’know, actually got on track) I sort of want a little more time with my husband. Just us.

Because once you get here, there’s no turning back. Our whole life is different.

So back to this morning, there was a little girl – maybe two years old – with a pink coat with bunny ears. I know this is crazy, but I kept thinking about you. I don’t even know you. I pictured you very very far away, waiting for us to get ready for you.

I want a big family, but I don’t know if it will be a girl or a boy or both that makes us a family first. Who ever you are, I cannot wait to be your mom.

I was cleaning out my Google Drive (ugh, why does Google have to change names so often!) and I found this little unnamed gem. I cannot wait to be your mom – I had no idea how true those words were. Yesterday, we went to Punta Gorda to visit my aunt, and my great-uncle was there. He looks so much like my beloved Grami; his laugh is the same. If he had said “my friend” I may have dissolved into tears on the spot. Watching him play peekaboo with  my daughter – which he did and it was precious – was a bit like capturing a memory of my grandmother playing with her great-granddaughter.

It’s self-indulgent, this blogging thing. And I’m so glad it is. I don’t get a lot of self-indulgences these days. I don’t get a lot of time to sit or be reflective or even look at my nails. So, the twenty minutes or so that I carve out of a day to write here? Indulgent. And calorie-free.


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