I’ve neglected to mention something rather big on Fawn Log, which is that Tony and I are expecting a baby in early September! I’m pretty sure that all twelve readers of this blog know this, since you also know me in real life and/or are my friend on Facebook. But just in case some fabulous literary agent is secretly following along with my life on Fawn Log, just waiting for the opportunity to offer me a contract to further detail my DIY, relationship, and lifestyle insights in book form, I thought I should formally announce here. Good news, mysterious literary agent who almost certainly does not exist– I’m sure I’ll soon be qualified to write a parenting book as well!
If someone– literary agent, is that you again?– asked me to sum up my pregnancy in two words, those words would be frantic and joyful. If I could expand my list to three words, those words would be frantic, joyful, and terrifying. It’s been frantic because, as you all know, we bought a technically uninhabitable house a year ago on May 15th (house anniversary! We can’t believe it!). Living in a work-in-progress construction zone as an adult can be difficult, but it’s doable. It’s less doable, it seems, for infants and young children. Tony and I have been frantically working to finish our house and have also– perhaps stupidly– taken on a big project to add an addition to replace the wonky, not-original back porch. The addition will get the washer/dryer out of what will be the nursery and add a much-needed second closet to our house. The last 6 months (6 months today! How?!) of pregnancy have been pointed at an almost singular goal: finish the house. The DIY parts have still been fun, but it’s a fun that’s been infused, at times, with no small amount of anxiety.
Luckily, pregnancy thus far has also been joyful. It’s fun expecting a baby, and thinking about what he/she/it will be like. We found out a couple weeks ago that the baby is a girl, and it’s more real now that we can start thinking of her as a she. Tony got me this onesie and I really love it:
Pregnancy has been terrifying for reasons that are probably universal. Nothing in my life has ever felt so much like I’m running as fast as I can towards a cliff. I am hopeful that the free-fall at the end is towards something amazing, and beautiful, and life-affirming, like so many people describe parenthood. Even if it is all those things, I’m sure it will also be extremely difficult (like so many of those same people also describe parenthood). The scariest part for me is not that it will be difficult, but that I just can’t imagine what the difficulties, or the joys, will be like. It’s the unknown that gets me.
Getting married scared the crap out of me, not because I didn’t love Tony and want to spend the rest of my life with him, but because I worried that something fundamental would change between us. What if I didn’t like that change? It turns out that some things did change, and in so far exclusively excellent ways. I feel closer to Tony, we’re better about planning for a long-term future, and when I introduce him to people as my husband they acknowledge and understand the importance of my relationship in way they maybe wouldn’t have if Tony was still “just” my boyfriend. Mostly, though, we’re still the same people with the same traits and issues. I’m grateful for that.
Maybe having a baby is the same way. Maybe the cliff is less terrifying than I imagine. Or maybe it’s more terrifying, but I ought to embrace it anyway. Either way it’s coming for me, or I’m coming for it, or maybe I should stop writing about just myself here and acknowledge that Tony and I and our daughter are all running towards this thing and will find out together what happens when we jump off. That part, at least, is comforting.