by Deidra Romero posted in Parenting

As a teenager, I professed I wanted seven, yes seven, children.
It would be so much fun at my house, I thought. Early adulthood cast more realism over my desire to be a mom and I began to slightly dread it. Fear it, even. I still wanted it.
But it seemed all the mothers I knew were sleep-deprived and wrecked with stress.

I watched them muddle through each day in my corporate job, and I feared for their mental health. Then one day two pink lines appeared on the pregnancy test, purchased hastily from CVS to ease my conscience. Just like that, the universe flipped inside-out. A few weeks later we saw the bubble swaying in my uterus as the technician waved the wand through the jelly on my abdomen. My husband, Michael, and I both cried hot, intrusive tears. Where did this love come from" Had it been there all along mingled with the dread" Or was the dread the wall I had built to keep myself from wanting it too much" Moments after Ezra was born I felt this pressure in my chest.
It was an anxiety I hadn?t anticipated. I would never be able to relax again. My body was bound to this earth in a holy and frightening way. If I died unexpectedly, I knew my spouse and parents and siblings would go on just fine. But not this child. Especially not now when my body was literally his lifeline. He had broken away from my body, but just barely. Suddenly I feared dying.
People say you don?t know love until you have children. I don?t think ...