I'm ready. In fact, my body is tired. I am tired of being tired. The physical stuff isn't that bad though. It's still the emotional baggage I bring to the table.
When a little girl plays house, her ideal is expressed as taking care of the baby by cooking and cleaning and pretending daddy will come home to them when he is done with work. She doesn't dream about leaving baby with the sitter to try to finish school. She doesn't imagine sleeping alone in her parents home with a baby that needs both parents sleeping in the next room. At least I wasn't the little girl that dreamed of being a single mother. I wanted a husband and traded down for a baby daddy.
I no longer feel shame when I walk around. I am not able to feel pride about the pregnancy, but I know that it is essentially none of anyone's business; and, if they make it their business, those who do not notice my naked finger will be corrected and I will let them know I am on my own. I do take pride in seeing that this is something that I chose to follow through with and SHE WILL be worth it.
I want my little girl to know that someone knew she meant everything to me since I was a little girl. Just because the timing isn't my timing, it doesn't mean she is less valuable.
