I’m stepping slightly outside the main debate here, but I just couldn't resist joining this thread once I found it.
I went through that exact same wave of panic when I realized I wanted this relationship to lead to marriage and a life together—something he didn't quite grasp for some reason (even though, naturally, the idea of having kids sounded great to him). On top of that, I truly love my life: my independence, my travels, my career. But then it hit me: kids won't die if they don't have a home-cooked meal every single day. They won't die if they spend a week at a sitter's while I'm traveling for work. They won't die if they have to work over a weekend, or if they get taken to a loud concert. With a little bit of organization, you can integrate a new generation into your life without losing everything that makes you *you*. Sure, it won't look like it did when we were solo, but "different" doesn't mean "worse." That’s my mantra. Truthfully, I just want a mini version of my husband. So, I started trying to conceive, which basically meant stopping the pill and letting fate take the wheel. And well, here I am at 16 weeks. I don't really have any comforting words to offer. If anything, I'm in an even deeper state of panic now. I haven't slept properly in two months, and the second I open my eyes, my mind races: How am I going to handle this? What do small children even eat? What do you actually *do* with them? What if they're cold? What if they're hot? How do you even bathe them? It's a million questions, and nobody can give you the answers. I suspect people like us—whether we're just over-responsible, perfectionists, or chronic worriers—will never truly feel ready. Honestly, stopping the birth control helped manage my PCOS symptoms, so I knew pregnancy wouldn't happen overnight. It took more than a year and a half, but that didn't help me prepare. I'm starting to believe that "preparedness" might be an impossible standard. Now, I've got 24 weeks to go. Whatever happens, happens. I'll give it my all. I know parents who are incredibly fun and present, yet their kids still end up wandering the streets alone; I suppose I'll manage to raise one human being. I just hope my child doesn't need decades of therapy once they grow up.😉