This is a strange little gem. It happened to me four and half years ago. What a shock. You see, I never wanted children, they were okay in small doses and if they belonged to someone else. I had friends with kids and always prided myself on the fact that my Husband and I could go wherever we wanted, whenever we wanted, spend our money on frivolities and basically stay the sane ones in the group. I had no desire whatsoever to go through the horror of what my mummy friends had described to me (sometimes with evil smiles on their faces), I wanted to stay skinny and sleep in till whatever time I desired. Then a bomb fell on my world.
My lovely little git of a Husband suddenly broached the subject of kids. He was now 30 and thought maybe it would be nice to be a Dad!!!! Wtf? We had been singing from the same hymn sheet I swear. Now, I love my Husband very much and respect him just the same, he is the voice of reason when I am going off on whatever little crusade I have in my head at the time. I've learnt from experience to listen to him..okay, okay, half listen to him, so when I had picked myself up off the floor and brushed myself down, I decided to listen to him and think about it. The bloody broodiness was contagious I must admit, I did think about being called Mummy, about having Grandchildren around when we were old, pushing a buggy around with people looking in and cooing. So at some strange point, I agreed to go ahead.
I will totally miss out all the pregnancy goop as it's really not that interesting, but will fast forward to the night I went into labour. It was four days after my due date and I had been (finally) enjoying the pregnancy but was now really worried about becoming a mum, I think I had accepted the pregnancy but was still yet to deal with the fact we were having a real life baby . I had been laying in bed reading (with Tim snoring at my side) and the baby had been having a little kick-the-crap-out-of-mum-session, I put my book down and said to the bump "I know you are coming soon, and that's okay, I'm fine with it and whenever you're ready, I'm ready". Simple as that, I had made my peace. I picked up my book and as I went to adjust my reading position, my waters broke, honesttogod!
Again I will save you falling asleep by missing out the labour and fast forward 12 weeks. By this point I was pretty much over my injuries (mwahahahahaha) and finally fully bonded with my babe (don't ask). I was very much in love and I have to say quiet impressed. Isabella was sleeping through the night (she did from 6 weeks), downed her bottles with no fuss, was always sociable and was absolutely beautiful. I was converted!!
Four and a half year later, she is pretty much the same, though off the bottles! And I am still madly in love. She manages to wrap me round her finger and we both know it, I will do anything to make her happy. To love someone who consistently does everything they can to get you to lose your marbles is a very weird one to explain....if your partner/boyfriend/Husband acted that way they would be kicked out and consigned to the history books but your child has a pass key to press all those buttons. And they do. Daily. But the love doesn't seem to wane, it just intensifies. Its a whole weird roller-coaster of love, worry, stress and pride and all parents ride it, no matter what you think.
Isabella entertains me daily, example; last nights robot dance and loves me back unconditionally. She brings back the appreciation of all the small things, Christmas, flowers, a starry night, you see the world through their eyes and get a second chance on things your adult mind forgot. She has also introduced me to things I would rather forget; Spanx, never being able to bounce on a trampoline and the fact that the word vaginoplasty has been entered into my web browser...shudder.
I'm also having to learn how to make mistakes and not crucify myself for them. I am a control freak, I like things just so and I don't like not being able to hold the reigns but having a child also means messing up sometimes and learning to live with it. Dropping your kid on it's head is not okay but forgetting to put underwear on them one day (yes I have done it) is not going to stop the earth from turning. You have a brilliant plan of how you're going to do this child rearing process and it all pretty much goes out of the window by day two, but if by the end of the day they are asleep comfortably in their bed and you are finally sitting down to a glass of wine and Desperate Housewives then pat yourself on the back because you've done it! A whole day out the way and they're fine. Now you just have to do it all again tomorrow!! It's hard, you don't get paid or appreciated but it's got to be the best job in the world. :-)