When I realised I was pregnant for the second time, I cried. I thought that we'd made a dreadful mistake, was gutted for DS, panicked about my career, etc. I am rubbish at being pregnant, too; I don't glow so much as glower. For weeks, I was pretty sure it was all a dreadful disaster, but tried to hold it together.
I did get used to the idea, and thought we could manage, even if nothing was as good as it had been. However, I was convinced it was a mistake.
Then she was born. And she's so, so, so fucking lovely, a single smile is well enough to make the fact that the three of us have had to budge up, make room, rearrange. I can't believe I thought we were complete without her. It was' t a big rush of love when she was born. It was more like, I agreed with myself to get through the pregnancy, and survive the new born sleepless nights and witching hours. So I just focused on that, but since she was there the whole way through, and I couldn't help falling in love with way she embodies loving acceptance, it feels like somehow we're a team because we survived that doubt, guilt and fear together. All my disaster panic, couldn't account for.the fact of her. I couldn't regret her; she just is, and that's that; and it's not that I love her, she just is love; it wasn't a mistake, it's just what happened; and this is the life I have, and I love, love, love my children.