What I remember most is the fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of my absent period, fear of disappointing my parents. I crawled into my bunk bed and cried giant, hiccup tears while talking to my sister.
My Alpha Delta Pi roommates watched Sex in the City and pretended not to hear.
The lady at the Pregnancy Crisis Center handed me a cup and pointed me to the bathroom. Sometimes I drive down Tennessee street and look for the building.
It was a small house hidden between big houses and landscaped lawns.
Find a doctor, she said. She handed me a pamphlet with baby development.
I ate Burger King Whooper cheeseburgers after every prenatal class. I know nothing about what to expect. Sometimes I sleep at the sorority house.
Mostly I sleep at his apartment.
I’m floating on a pool noodle at our apartment pool. My sorority sisters have all gone home for the summer. Another rowdy neighbor is enjoying libations because it is the 4th of July. He offered us a shot of liquor.
That night, we watch the fireworks over the river. We are disappointed.
I’m standing in the doorway to my grandparent’s bathroom. We’ve just stayed the night as house sitters. I’ve gone to the bathroom and felt the first contractions.
We go shopping for wedding shoes. We go out to eat lunch at Culvers.
We come back to their house. He rubbed my back while everyone watched.
10:16 pm. July 5th, 2003. 6 lbs., 6 ounces of baby boy is born.
Simon Matthew, my baby.
It’s been 10 trips around the sun since then.
I still have fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of failing, fear of not measuring up.
I have love too. An entire decade of love.
And when my cross tongue or my sharp attitude makes you feel less than loved, I hope you will (some day) come back here to find these words.
I love you, kid. More than you will ever know.
Linked up at the EO for Just Write.