I was out getting bubble tea the other day with my mother and son, and a lady walked by and said "oh my goodness, he's not yours is he!?".
Weird way to start a conversation.
But, I responded "Yep, he is".
And she went on to ask me "How old are you!?" and "Was he planned!?"
Also, weird, and mostly bold, but not exactly something that offends me. I'm quite used to people being confused about if Emileo is biologically mine, based on the timeline of when I had him. Usually when first meeting people, they will start will ask when when Zach and I met, and when they find out how old Emileo is, I can see them start to subtract 20 months - 9 months - 36 months in their head, so I just help them out by saying "correct, we did get pregnant after 3 months of dating."
It sounds really scary from an outside perspective. Frankly, it was scary from an inside perspective too. I was actually just telling Zach yesterday, how I can't wait to actually be in the same country the next time we find out we're expecting, so we can at least hug each other. If you don't know, he was in living in Italy when we found out we were having Emileo.
Everything seems like it was scary back then, but truthfully, I think I was on autopilot. I didn't quite have an option other than to just. keep. going. I think back and remember that neither Zach nor I even had a job besides my coffee shop salary. We literally had to choose between living in mine or his childhood bedroom, while Zach finished his last year of college. Our budget was so tight that we all slept on an air mattress in an apartment in Hornell, with non functioning heat in November. We split time between Rochester and Hornell so Zach could see our newborn as much as possible, but most nights I was alone in Rochester and he was alone in Hornell. None of that is exactly a category on Pinterest. Zach secured a job here in America, from overseas (before Skype interviews were cool). I had to figure out how I could change from a 5-year degree to a 4-year degree with just weeks left of college, and pray to God that my former summer internship would turn into a job, so I could save up money for diapers before Leo popped out in October.
Times were .... touch and go for a solid year.
With our wedding coming up in less than a year, I look back from where we sit now and I can't help but cry. I really can't. We originally wanted a small ceremony in Italy followed by an intimate dinner overlooking the Amalfi coast, and then cocktails at our favorite bar, but we did have to edit our plans for a number of reasons, with covid and international travel mixing as well as oil and water do. We sat down and realized our wedding seems like more than a union of us. It's another reminder that we triumphed over ever obstacle the presented itself, whether it was of our own doing or not and despite the growing pains. So we said fuck it, lets have a big(ger) ceremony in Florida, where covid doesn't bring society to a screeching halt. Let's dance, let's drink, let's eat ... let's do all of it.
It's kinda like how choosing my dress went, I was between something modest in budget and design, and something that was more intricate, detailed, and certainly at a higher price point. My mom said, fuck it - its your WEDDING. Lets do this.
I understand that Emileo being here is fully out of Zach and I's own doing, and yes my twenties look like changing diapers and chasing after a mini-me that is constantly insisting on running in the opposite direction. My twenties are not all about me or just my career. But I'm fucking here for it.
I look at my life as a series of mini-lives. The person I was before having Leo made decision's mostly on an emotional-basis. If I didn't want to clean my room, I didn't. If I didn't want to eat healthy, I didn't. If I didn't want to go for a walk, I wouldn't. If I felt like watching Netflix instead of putting time into a hobby, I would.
This is what that looks like now: I have to clean my house, or else Leo might find something dangerous lying around. I have to eat healthy, because I'm responsible for keeping a little person healthy, too. I have to go for walks pushing Leo on the stroller, and I have to put my worries on the back burner for a second, so I can play action figures with him. And, the finite and fleeting time that I do get away from him puts me at peak productivity levels. Things, like, studying have never been easier. I always repeat this backwards quote, "the less time you have, the more time you have." Meaning, the more outlined your schedule is, the better you are at managing how you spend your time.
Back in high school and college, I would either mask or perpetuate unhealthy habits because of the excess of mental capacity I had. I also could wreak havoc on my health because I had a surplus of time to recover. I would waste entire weekends nursing a hangover, living like time was a renewable resource.
Now my life looks like waking up at 6:00 AM on a Saturday, running downstairs excited to take my vitamins and supplements and drink my water so I can have the energy it takes to thrive. My ass needs to be in bed by 10 pm so I can wake up rested, and ready to tend to a little guy who can't wipe his own ass yet. This is my twenties. I cringe a little bit, thinking about what if it didn't go this way. Some people don't need to have a baby for them to be healthy functioning adults, but, it's become apparent that I did. I don't know who I would be sans-Leo and I'm quite glad I don't know her. I dislike phrase “Normalize ______” so instead I suggest that we revisit the idea that we need to have it “all figured out” before we have children. Because in the same token, our life will never be “all figured out”. The constant evolution of growth and expansion shouldn’t die after we have children either.
I have come a long way from taking prenatals in my shared college dorm room. I will not fail, because I can't fail. I'm stacking good habits, on top of good habits. I am growing into myself. Growing into motherhood. Growing into what it means to be a wife. I am making it the healthiest version of me. I am focused, more than ever.
To put it plainly, we weren't the parents that had a nursery with a crib, and a monogrammed name tag above it, in our own home that had a white picket fence, with our own lives figured out. If that translates into "he wasn't planned". Then, so be it. I don't believe that defines me as a parent. I do believe that what we make of the journey is. And whether it be the first day, month, or year of our relationship, I've always looked into Zach's eyes believing there was a plan for our future together.
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