In case you hadn’t noticed, I have turned a massive corner from when I started on this blogging journey. My transformation from blooming miserable to blooming marvellous happened much more quickly than I ever imagined. I’ve started buying pretty pink things, planning the nursery and generally feeling excited about the arrival of our little girl ☺️.
That said, I still can’t shake the feeling that I dare not dream. With every little item I buy, the moment of joy is quickly dampened by that voice. “Well that’s tempting fate isn’t it?”, “What are you going to do with that when you don’t have a baby to bring home?” I guess those feelings are natural. I expect most, if not all, expectant mothers share that anxiety. A few weeks ago the voice would have shouted loud enough to make sure I listened. She’d have repeated the words over and over until I put the thing back on the shelf. Christ, weeks ago that voice wouldn’t even allow me to enter a baby shop without overwhelming me with a sickness that left me dizzy. Today I hear her, but I tell her to bugger off! Yes, I know there are no guarantees that everything will be ok. I know that the risks associated with a low lying placenta and Group B Strep mean that I face potential complications. But is the health of my baby seriously going to be impacted by a pink bunny? Is my labour more likely to end in tears because of that cute floral dress? No. Que será será. What will be will be.
You see, I don’t think it matters that the voice is always there. I have to get used to that. What matters is how loud I let that voice be. She used to scream at me, over and over, until my ears rang. Now it’s just a whisper; just loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough to disregard. I accept she will always have something to say – she is opinionated to say the least. But I am no longer giving her comments undeserved credence.
She can challenge me if she wishes, but she’d better be ready for a fight!