the weirdness of it all.

It’s kind of weird for me to be writing about being pregnant on the site where I have only until March 15 been writing about not being pregnant.  Obviously I wish I didn’t have to keep the blog so infertility-focused for the length of time I did…but whatever.  I swear, it seems like water under the bridge now.  Of course it would be great if I had never gone through all I did the past few years–and I only started the blog in the middle of the mess.  But now, while pregnant, I find myself thinking of the NEXT baby–you know, when we try again with medical help for two years straight to have another child.  Damn girl, you’re not even halfway through this one (17.5 weeks though) and already looking ahead, thinking,  yep, might try again if this one is a keeper.  I have the amazing talent of “forgetting” really shitty things–I mean, I don’t hang onto the complete shittiness of them all–and some, I block out altogether.  So that aids in my ability to just think about myself as just another pregnant mom of a 2.5 year old, going about my business right now.  Today, I write today on a day when I am feeling blessed and happy and blissful.  In less than three weeks I find out if this baby is a girl or a boy.  That will open a torrent of other emotions–if it is a girl, I may explode.  I am so petrified petrified petrified of raising a little girl.  Not just in “today’s world”, but in my own HOME.  I had a damn good relationship with my parents and still do–but there are parts of that relationship that led me to some unhealthy life behaviors for a long time (haven’t come out of the closet yet on this one–but had, for many years, a few variations of eating disorders.  Denied it, sought help, didn’t recover, denied it, denied it, sought help…and will always be “recovering”).  I have never had a very positive self image, my self esteem has never been all that it should be as a woman in her early thirties–and so while I have gone to therapy, worked through some problems, come to terms with myself–I still worry about the havoc my person could wreak on a girl.  (I am pretty sure my therapy will have to pick up again, to make sure I don’t project any of my insecurities on my little girl).  A boy–I can do it.  P is a pretty great kid, and I think I could raise another great kid.  Girl=Scardy C.   However, I would of course rather work through the terror of raising a girl than not raising anything at all. 

time will tell.  but my money is on girl.