“I’m Sorry”

These will be two of the first words Baby Knapp hears from me. It seems with pregnancy comes a lot of guilt. Especially, I find the more an expecting mother reads about what she should be doing, the more guilt with which she is ridden. Specifically in my case, I will be apologizing to Baby for the following:

~ I’m sorry for that time I licked the beaters when baking a cake, exposing you to potential botulism from the raw eggs that could make you blind, deaf or both.

~ I’m sorry for the time I was decorating your nursery and poorly attached a very heavy shelf to the wall, which subsequently ripped off the wall and landed on my belly. At least I called the doctor to see if I should panic (she said no), but if your born with a dent in your head, we’ll know why.

~ I’m sorry for fulfilling nearly every single one of my Taco Bell cravings. It is entirely my fault if you’re born addicted to Baja Chalupas and Taco Supremes.

~ I’m sorry for when I had two doses of morphine in the emergency room to relieve my paralyzing back pain. As they gave me the shot, Daddy said, “There goes our child’s future…” but quite honestly, it had to be done.

~ I’m sorry that I didn’t eat more cottage cheese in my third trimester to develop your super-brain. If you don’t win every spelling bee, math meet and academic decathlon you enter, that’s my fault, too.

~ I’m sorry for all the times I laid flat on my back, potentially cutting off your oxygen supply via some crucial vein that runs down my right side to your umbilical cord, but sometimes that was the ONLY comfortable position I could find.

~ I’m sorry for the material things that society says are important for us to have for you – like owning the house we’ll bring you home to, setting up a big college fund pre-birth and having career jobs that will last us until retirement and put you through college, help pay for your wedding and/or both.

~ I’m sorry that some stressful life changes happened while I was pregnant with you, apparently sending my cortizol levels out of whack enough to stress you out, too, and possibly develop a third arm.

~ I’m sorry for that time Cutie was roughhousing on the couch and used my belly as a launching pad to get a good angle at licking Daddy’s face. If it’s any consolation, you kicked him right back – HARD!

Seriously, if a baby isn’t born perfect, who is the first to blame? The mother! I could go on all day about the things I’m sorry for, and every day there’s a whole new list of things to add to the “Why I’m Already Not a Perfect Mommy” list.

But, there’s one thing I’m NOT sorry for: loving this baby more than I have ever loved anyone (except Dennis) in my entire life – even before he or she is born. I’ll never be a perfect mommy, and I’ll never live up to all the textbook expectations you’re supposed to uphold during pregnancy, childbirth and parenting.

What I CAN do is fill as many gaps possible with as much love as my heart can produce for this little person. With any luck, Baby Knapp just may grow up not holding me responsible for his/her every flaw, and may actually learn to forgive and accept me for just being a human mommy. If we get that far, I’ll gladly take the fall for the permanent scars apparent from birth…