On Fear & Impatience

Dearest Bean, 

   I've been trying to find the right words for this entry for the last couple of days. I'm finding that's increasingly difficult to remain calm and clear-headed when I'm terrified. I'm also not entirely sure I will be able to put the crippling, mind-numbing fear into words. The reason I'm afraid is simple: tomorrow will be the first time I get to see you in a sonogram and hear your little heartbeat reassuring me that you're okay. Put plainly, I'm afraid you won't show up to the party and that there will be no heartbeat to listen to. I haven't been able to wrap my head around what I'm going to do if you aren't there, if this little person I've come to love so much has decided that maybe it's not the right time. This is certainly the first time I've experienced what I've come to consider a Mother's Fear. That phrase deserves so much more than capitalization. It needs to be bold, underlined, italicized in a font so enormous it defies logic and science. By the way, I am in no way melodramatic. There's a big difference between the average run-of-the-mill fear and a Mother's Fear. I never realized just how much of a difference there was until recently. 
   For instance I'm terrified of bees, vomit, and porcelain clowns; they all fall under the category of run-of-the-mill fear when put up against what I'm feeling now. A Mother's Fear is an all-encompassing paralysis with the fear for someone else - your child. I'm so scared for you Bean. I want you in my life so badly my very bones ache with the need to hold you in my arms and keep you safe from harm. While you're in my tummy there's not much I can do besides eating well, taking my vitamins, and staying hydrated. It drives me crazy that you're growing inside MY body and I have no control over making sure everything turns out okay. If it were up to me, I'd control every aspect of your upbringing from the moment of conception. I suppose this is just me learning what it means to be a parent, the constant need to make everything okay for you. 
   I'll end this particular diatribe now before I get myself too worked up and worried. All will be tomorrow, I'm sure of it. As always, you continue to be the light in my life. 

Love,
Mama