Hi. I am Sta, a 20-something writer from the metro Detroit area.
My husband and I married in 2006 after five years, give or take, of dating. We bought a house that fall and settled into a happy existence of living the DINK life -- that'd be Duel-Income, No Kids. We wanted kids... later. Years later. Sometimes in the fuzzy distance down the road when we had a bigger house, more established careers and some of our youthful selfishness drained away.
You can guess where this is going.
On Nov. 30, 2007, I found out I was pregnant. For the first few months, the main emotion I felt about my growing baby was not exactly warm and fuzzy -- I felt sad. Sad, and guilty for being sad.
Slowly, with the help of writing here, great family and friends, an awesome husband, and the perfect love of a perfect God, I accepted that my life was in for a huge change. My career will take a detour. Finances? Who knows what will happen there. I do know that lots of people get pregnant with situations much worse than ours. We're together, we love each other, we have support, we have jobs. We'll figure it out.
Sometime last winter, I moved from mere acceptance of the situation to real excitement. My life was in for a huge change that I didn't exactly sign up for. And I was finally glad.
I also know, after reading this stat in a 2006 article from the Christian Science Monitor, that 49 percent of pregnancies in the USA are unplanned. Not all of those unplanned pregnancies happen to teens or the unwed. Sometimes they come to women who on paper would appear perfectly ready for motherhood. That doesn't mean they are. So I write in hope of connecting to those women who are like me, who, for whatever reason, have had a hard time adjusting to the idea of a new baby. I write to show that it's OK and natural to feel conflicted and also to give hope that in the end, everything will be OK.
My son was born on in mid July at 9:52 a.m. after a drug-free (not by choice!) labor. Then the shit really hit the fan. The next day, he was flown to another hospital because doctors found a series of heart defects that added up to trouble. He had surgery at six days old to correct them -- a large ventricular septal defect, a small atrial septal defect and a coarctation of the aorta. He finally came home two weeks later.
But we all survived, and besides his lovely scar, you'd hardly know the whole ordeal went down.
My husband is adorable and funny and responsible and kind. He handles me well when I am crazy or emotional or crabby or a really bad listener, and I am those things more often than I care to admit.
The other thing to know about me? I'm one of those Christian types. After growing up "Catholic," I truly became a Christian in the summer of 2005. I did so after a lot of long talks with one of my dearest friends, a lot of reading and question-asking, a few trips to a non-denominational church and an intense encounter with Jesus Christ in a dream. After years of being a true skeptic, finding a new identity as a Christian has been scary. I had all the negative impressions of Christians -- they were hypocritical, judgmental, cheesy, stupid, and incredible right-wing. I didn't want to become any of those things. And I haven't, and none of the Christians I've become close with fit that profile either. Turns out I was the judgmental one! Now, I am far from perfect in my walk with God, but I'm trying. I'm still learning. I fail quite often. But He gives me hope.
In my spare time, I devour books, run, cook, do the occasional half-marathon or triathlon and hang with family and friends. I love coffee shops, book stores, going out for brunch, taking walks in nice weather, being outside, the beach, bed-and-breakfasts, naps in the mid-afternoon, artsy films, good conversations and blogs written by smart, inspiring women.