?Are you so excited"!?
That?s everyone?s first question when you tell them you?re pregnant. I?ve heard it a lot recently, as I?m expecting my second child in June. And I know the response people want: ?Yes! I am thrilled! I can?t wait to do it all over again!?
Unfortunately, I?ve never been a great liar.
The truth is, I am not excited. Hopeful" Sure. Grateful" Definitely. But excited" No way. How can I feign enthusiasm about launching back into life with a newborn, when I?m still haunted by the traumatic experience of my first time at bat"
When my son was born two years ago, I felt ready to take on all the challenges of babyhood. After being diagnosed with breast cancer in my 20s and being told I might never be able to have children, I felt incredibly lucky and blessed to get to experience the joys of motherhood that I?d been yearning for. But then he came?my perfect, healthy, handsome bundle?and there was no joy. Not even an ounce. All I felt was the crushing weight of anxiety and misery, pulling me down into a black hole in which I feared I might be stuck forever. I knew I loved my son and cared for him more than anything in the world. But at the same time, I dreaded all of my motherly duties, feeling trapped in a life that felt nothing like my own.
My son was not an ?easy? baby (apparently some of them are, although I?ve personally never met one of these unicorns). He had reflux, barfed constantly, would only sleep on my or my husband?s chest, an...