Allergic to babies

Growing up we always had pets, and I was a certified animal lover. My dog slept in my bed almost every night throughout my childhood, my buddy and playmate. I cooed and oogled and scratched the head of any cute furry four-legged thing in my path. I imagined always having pets in my life.

Then I went away to college. And whether it was the Houston air pollution or just plain age, but somewhere along the way I developed an allergy. To my surprise, when I returned home after graduation to live with my parents, I discovered that their recently acquired cats made me terribly sick - sneezing, wheezing, itching, the works. I could hardly be around them without contemplating whether a trip to the ER was in order, the shortness of breath was so bad. A combination of drugs and air purifiers made things tolerable, but I still limit my visits to their house to this day. (Because of course the darn things have decided to live forever...) Dogs don't make me quite as sick, but enough to be uncomfortable for sure.

So little by little, I stopped rubbing my face in the fur of adorable little creatures, or letting them sit in my lap or lick my hands or face, or petting them at all. I ignored any pets in my presence in the hopes they'd ignore me, and avoided being around them at all when I could. Eventually, I became Immune to Their Cuteness. Gone was the slightest urge to fawn over that new puppy on the street, or to humor a friends dog who wanted to play catch. Animals made me feel like shit, my heart hardened, and they just kind of became invisible to me.

And now back to babies... Having kids was an abstract notion for a long time. I knew I wanted them, but I couldn't really picture life with them or being a mom - I was working and having fun and being independent and family-dom all felt very far away. But all that changed when my oldest nephew was born 8 years ago. My heart opened so big I thought it would burst, I loved this child so much. I watched my brother and his wife transform into these amazing patient caring parents, and for the first time I thought, "I could do this." And not only that but, "I want this really badly, and soon." I loved watching shows about parenting, loved shopping for baby things, loved talking to pregnant women. It all felt like preparation for the real deal, getting myself ready to take the plunge and gradually rewiring my brain maternally.

By the time we got married and finally started trying, I was BEYOND ready and wanted that baby yesterday. I was full of dreams of how I'd look pregnant, the image of a baby in my husband's arms, how we'd be as parents together.

Losing that first pregnancy hit me so very hard. All the excitement and anticipation, as well as those creeping fears about whether we'd have problems, all came crashing down. The setback felt like an eternity, waiting to try again and get to that dream. And then we lost another. And another. And on and on. Each time my heart shattering in a million pieces, positively aching for what we could not have.

I felt like a big gaping wound walking this earth, hurt and sorrow at every glimpse of a swollen belly or baby carriage. And so to just get through the day, eventually my heart began to harden, my hopes got buried and dreams pushed to the dark corners of my mind. I stopped imagining what that next Christmas might look like, what my baby shower might look like, what the nursery might look like, what our child might look like. And I forced myself to come to grips with the very real possibility that it might never happen for us, or at least not how we imagined and certainly not for a very long time. I became allergic to all things baby.

And now I find myself 17 weeks pregnant and no (rational) reason to believe that anything is wrong or will go wrong. But I can't seem to open back up my heart. I don't know how to let myself resume all those thoughts and plans that I pushed so very deep. I have found myself in tears all weekend, downright sobs, as I try to move forward. It's like, if something were to go wrong at this point, it will be bad enough to lose this baby, but also re-losing the dream is more than I think I can bear. Allowing myself to feel excitement, accept well wishes, make plans, imagine the future -- I swear I can actually feel my heart ripping apart, it hurts so bad to feel these things again.

I'm so very grateful to be where we are, but still so very scared and timid with my heart. I keep hoping that with patience and time it will get easier, even if it takes until I hold this child in my arms. 

One day at a time.