As a young girl, I never really dreamed about my future.
There was no dream husband – apart from a twenty minute fantasy that my husband would be able to pick me up in his arms – or a dream house. There was no dream career or even a dream family. There was just the here and now. The immediate. This was pretty much my life for as long as I can remember.
The only thing that seemed to resonate with me beginning in those early years was a single image. An image that would enter my mind with no warning and one that would stay in my mind for several years. And that image was of me…pregnant.
Nothing before, nothing after. Just me with the really big and really round belly.
I did eventually have that, and boy oh boy, was it ever big and round. But let’s not jump too far ahead. There was a before – and after – to that big belly. So let me give you a quick rundown.
I met a boy. I then met him again several months later for the first time. I don’t actually remember meeting him the “real” first time, so it’s kind of like it didn’t really happen, right? A few days later I tackled him in the snow and set in motion the best ride of my life. It was a crisp January evening.
We became friends first. Then we started dating. We broke up twice but got together thrice (if you count the first time). Six years later we got engaged. We married each other in year seven and got pregnant in year eleven.
Of course it wasn’t this easy – but then again, what is really?
What ultimately matters though is that we made it. We were going strong and we were pregnant. This was it. This was the moment I had dreamed of. This was the moment that directly connected my past to my present. This was the moment I had seemingly been waiting for my whole life.
And just like that, this moment was my now. And. it. was. everything.
I’d like to say that this moment transformed me – from care-free and go with the flow to well-researched and well-prepared for what was to come. But I can not. Because it did not. I remained as in the moment as I had ever been before…and well maybe, just maybe, that was a good thing.
All there was (and is) to know at this point is that my name is Sheeba – and I was born to mom.
P.S. – In case you were wondering, my husband did try and lift me in his arms – it was as short-lived as my fantasy.