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I hesitated to write this…

I feel guilty for being pregnant. I’m scared to say it aloud – scared that the fertility gods will overhear and hand me another miscarriage. But I don’t understand why I got pregnant and so many other wonderful women out there can’t. Why? Why me and not them? It’s such a humbling thing, knowing that a miracle has been bestowed upon Bobby and me… and it’s the same miracle that so many others are praying for and never receive. It’s so easy to take things for granted, to feel entitled to a “normal” pregnancy, a “normal” childbirth, a “normal” process. But no one is guaranteed this “normalcy” – whatever that even is.

I want our baby to be perfect. I think often about what our baby will look like… the miraculous merging of physical features to create a new human. The vanity of wanting to see yourself, and on some level, recreate yourself in your child. How do you raise a free-thinking, independent, intelligent human to be those things? How do you NOT continue the cycle of socialization?… “You’re my child and I’ll teach you the same things that my parents taught me and the cycle will continue to repeat itself again and again.”

But this actually isn’t even the point of my original thought. I hate knowing that my pregnancy brings pain to those who are still trying to get pregnant, or those who have accepted that pregnancy isn’t in their futures. I know that we all have our own path…. But I guess that on some level, I want to reassure others and myself that I haven’t forgotten how it feels to not know. That I’m not taking this miracle for granted. That I’m not assuming that I’m entitled to a flawless pregnancy, a healthy child. That I know it hurts some of you when I talk about this pregnancy, and I’m so, so very sorry for the pain that you’re feeling.

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