Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's me and you. Have you thought about this? This whole ludicrous idea that I'm actually going to have a baby, it's real? This can't be true. There's no baby, I just have a wriggly growth. It's making my feet swell and it makes walking around and standing a lot harder than it should be, but that's not a baby.
Honestly, have you thought about this? I sure haven't.
No, I don't have that magical bond some women get with their unborn children. This is not real to me. Yes, I would be devastated if I lost the baby; if something were to go wrong, I would re-act like a human does to tragedy. But this baby isn't a baby to me. Yes, it pokes me and I poke it back. I laugh when people try to feel movement and the baby stops moving, because baby never halts for me. I suppose we have out little "connection" but it's not based on reading children's books before bed or private conversations with my hands on my belly. This child's heard "fuck" more times in utero than it will ever hear in real life. Pregnancy has been a condition that I've had for months now, but the realization that is ends with a real baby is a little shocking to me.
I'm not scared, I know I can handle being a mother. I know I can make it through labor and delivery. Post-partum has me a little nervous, mostly because I've been so damn emotional. I can get my body back into shape, adjust to breastfeeding, and the lack of sleep.
I'm just having a hard time connecting the dots between being pregnant and being given a baby that my body has already been carrying. Because me and wiggle worm here? We've never met.