The old rocking chair...

I bought  a (used) rocking chair and brought it to the new place this afternoon on my lunch break to put it in the little one's room. It's the only piece of furniture in the place right now, as everything else gets moved in this weekend.

Anyway, I set up the chair in the corer of the room, by the door, where I thought it would probably fit best once other things are moved into the small space. I bought the chair from a young mother who likely used it to cradle her own babies, who have since outgrown its use. The rocking chair is nice, and gently used with a little wear and tear on the white finish, and some water marks on the foot stool pad. While it's not perfect, it's perfect in function and price for me and the little one.

After I sat in the chair for a second, I got up and I went to leave. As I was turning the hallway to the front door, I looked in the doorway and I saw this imperfectly perfect chair and I had this moment of absolute awe.

This is becoming real.

I am so ashamed to admit how I've been feeling throughout my pregnancy thus far. I've been super scared, apprehensive, insecure and doubtful of this experience. I've taken comments (which were likely meant to be funny or cute) about how life as I know it is over and how I will never sleep again to heart. I have really started to question this whole motherhood thing.

This is not a reflection of how I feel about my baby, but rather a question of my own abilities and a reflection of how I foresee myself in this new role and the change that inevitably comes with it.

Truth be told, I am shit scared.

That said, there have been moments of absolute joy over the last twenty weeks; hearing my baby's heartbeat; seeing his or her tiny silhouette on the ultrasound screen; feeling him of her get stronger while he or she is doing what I can only assume is killer break dancing in my belly...

It's like nothing I can explain just like that moment in my hallway, looking at the old rocking chair in my baby's room. This new life will be hard and I will doubt myself and feel insecure and apprehensive, but just like that old chair, I will be the imperfectly perfect mom for my kid.