I Don’t Want This Child

Now that word is officially out about our expectant child, I be can real. It’s not pretty, and it’s definitely not something I’m proud of, but I truly believe I cannot be the only person with these feelings, and I think it’s ok to have them. Prepare yourself for some raw emotions and pretty bold statements. (And before you become disgusted with me, read until the end.)

Rewind a few years back. Once Jacob and I decided we were ready (meaning I was finally ready) to have a child, we started trying to conceive. It took months. Why was this happening to me? Was it my fault? I believed everything I read and went to lengths as crazy as not letting Jake carry his phone in his front pocket any longer.

Eventually after what felt like years, we welcomed MJ into the world. I suffered severe post-partum depression and struggled with anxiety. Suddenly, I hated being the center of attention, something I loved for my entire life. I felt like everyone was judging me, not only as a person, but more specifically as a mother.

After hitting my breaking point and letting my anxiety and depression take over, that’s when I sought professional help for these brand new feelings I didn’t know how to deal with.

After thinking I had a decent grip on my diagnosis and life, Jake and I discussed having a second child. If everything went according to plan, we could start trying (I assumed it’d take months/years again) and hopefully conceive in the fall, have a May/June baby, my mom would be off work for the summer and could help me should I fall victim to post-partum again. My plan was amazing and we were both comfortable with it.

Now reread the beginning of that last sentence: My plan. Yep. My plan, because I am in control of all.

You know who laughed at that statement? God did. God has an entirely different plan for me, but I am just not ready to accept it yet.

I am not ready to be pregnant. Please don’t confuse this for not wanting a child (and I swear if you so much as bring up the pro-life/pro-choice topic I will delete you from my life this moment).

I am worried. I have worries. I have no freaking clue how we are going to afford this child (maybe you remember that whole spending my way into debt situation) and I have no idea how I will function day to day without any medications. I am trying. But I still have worries. And if one more person tells me, “it’ll work itself out,” I am going to cry. I’m sure it will work itself out, by me deciding if I want gas in my car or milk in the fridge. Also, please don’t confuse this as asking for charity, because I got my own self into this mess, I have to get myself out of it.

I absolutely dread telling people we are expecting. I don’t want the excited responses and the “I’m so happy for you.” I feel ashamed. Why do I feel capable of bringing another life into this world when I can’t even get ahold of my own? Do I think I deserve to have a child when others are longing so desperately to do so?

It’s not that I don’t want this child, but I don’t want this child right now. And that is shameful. I continue to tell myself God wouldn’t give this life to us if we couldn’t handle it, but I am worried. I don’t want to think of myself as a pessimist, but I definitely think I am a realist.

Are we ready for this? I know I’m not. Or maybe I just think I’m not. I really don’t have an option at this point. I need to get excited and stop worrying.

But I am worried.

Maybe this is all going to be the biggest test of my life and I have to change my perspective… Perhaps I don’t want this child, but I need this child.