I went to university for English and Linguistics. You would think that would make me a good writer, except a good writer with nothing to write about, is jobless. So I sought out a different line of work. I went into speech therapy but not a pathologist. An assistant because I don’t put in the hard work to make something like that happen, I’m a chronic procrastinator and a poor academic.
I am a dreamer
I’ve dreamed of being a bookstore owner, a farmer, a small bed and breakfast owner, a speech therapist, a teacher, and of course, a writer. I dream big but rarely put in the effort to make it happen. I’m not sure why; I know it’s not due to a lack of conviction. I start something; I’ll pour hours into it, and eventually, I get distracted and pretend to forget that I started it in the first place.
Maybe you can get by on life like this.
Maybe this lifestyle works, as long as the right people around you.
Maybe you can feel fulfilled as long as you have enough hobbies.
I know you can’t do the same with a baby.
You can dream about having a baby, but dreams don’t let you experience nausea, cramping, and the constant fear that takes over your mind and body. You have to put hours and hours into a baby, and it doesn’t end. You can never be distracted or pretend to forget that the life you’ve created depends on you.
As an impossible dreamer and a professional “giver upper,” this terrifies me.
This baby isn't a dream I can give up on.
Every day this baby grows inside me, and I want to be someone he, she, or they can be proud of. So I'm hoping this old dream pans out because now I have something to write about.
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