As I grew up I thought about getting married, raising a family and sending my children to school. What kind of mum would I be? What kind of sports would my kids play? Would they be girls, boys or one of each?
When I met your dad I thought about what kind of family we would have, what kind of parents we would be. Would I be the good cop or the bad cop? Would he bath you when he came home from work? What kind of dad would he be? How much would our lives change?
It wasn't long before your Aunt and Uncles started having babies and I would look at my little nieces and nephews, your cousins, and wondered how similar they would be to you. One of each of their parents were your dad's siblings, so would some of their features be the same as yours? Would you look more like me or more like daddy?
Now as I watch your cousins grow older, I wonder about you. When are you going to arrive? How long will I have to wait? Are you even within our reach? What if you're just a dream and not a reality?
Are you a natural figment of my imagination or an omnipresent manifestation of my desire? Are you singular or plural? Are you a representation of one child or all our future children?
The more I think about you, the more I wonder if pushing for you is the right thing to do. If you aren't meant to be, is it fair for me to force you into existence? If nature says no, is it right for science say yes? Should we pay to have you made in a petri dish? Should you be stored in a freezer for future use? Should you be discarded if you aren't quite right?
Are you a baby that is supposed to be born to another woman but raised by us? Are you waiting for us now? Do you already exist? Are you in another country? Should we be focusing on finding you via adoption? Is that our journey? Is that how daddy and I will find you?
Am I supposed to use my maternal nature to look after children who's parents can't? Am I supposed to be a part time mum, looking after children for periods of time? Are you a foster child?
Is it possible that I'm only supposed to look after children that belong to someone else while they're at work? Am I supposed to teach children instead? Am I supposed to jump into a career that benefits children and parents? Am I supposed to be a paediatric nurse, a midwife or a fertility councillor? Are you actually a representation of all the children in the world that need help?
I don't know where or what you are, but at this point in my life I've got too many questions and I can't think clearly.
Sometimes I cry because I want you so badly and other times I cry because I'm afraid of creating you.
It's a mess. I'm a mess.