Life is ironic sometimes, isn’t it? I decide to write a series on children, since it’s a topic I rarely write about since I, myself, have no children.
Then a few weeks later, those two pink lines stared back. The reality of being a mother is overwhelming.
A visit to the doctor confirmed our family’s new addition and explained the strange bouts of nausea and dizziness I’ve felt lately — that I’m feeling now.
Immediately, everything in life shifted. I thought my husband and I were rather practical before, but now every dollar we spend seems frivolous and every time-consuming activity, unnecessary.
Truthfully, I’m terrified. I’d always hoped to be a mom, but that was still years out — not even a part of my five-year plan. Now, it’s really happening. I’m thrilled, but so scared of what’s to come.
Then I think of where we are in life, where we’ll be when the baby comes. I’ll be 22 years old. Josh and I will have been married for more than three years. We have a steady income and wonderful health insurance coverage.
Then I think, where would we have been if things had gone according to plan? I’d be 28 years old. Josh would have a job wherever he could get one, post-military. Our health insurance would be expensive, and it’s likely we’d drown in the expenses of childbirth.
Obviously, God is a better planner than I am.
He also has a peculiar sense of humor.
But I have a feeling when all the morning sickness — Just morning? More like all-the-time-sickness — passes and dream vacations have been traded in for cribs and strollers, we’ll be as ready as we would have been six years from now, which is somewhere around not ready at all.
And it’s going to be so great.