Having a child is a curious thing. Particularly when you meant to. And particularly when you put a whole lot of thought into it beforehand. Apparantly not many people do.
It is strange to have everybody offering their advice (or horror stories), all the time, whether you want it or not. It is difficult to deal with opinions thinly veiled as genuine inquiries.
The strangeness and frustration of this normal social process of becoming new parents is exasperated when one makes unconventional decisions. It seems I’m always explaining and qualifying our plans with “if everything goes ok.”
Carrying a baby is a scary thing, too. No matter how certain I am that the decisions we have made are right for us, I feel like I can’t share our passion about them for fear that, in the event things don’t work out, we’d hear the inevitable “I told you so.” Countless chit chats with other mothers on everything from homebirth to weight gain, breastfeeding to babysitting have yielded comments like “just wait and see,” “you’ll change you mind about that,” “all that will go out the window once he gets here.”
What’s wrong with a little planning? What’s the problem with intentionality? Maybe we don’t want to wing it.