Chosen With Care

I am 6 weeks and 3 days pregnant as I type this out.

And it is insane how my family, despite their chaos, is ecstatic and overjoyed for me to be pregnant yet my husbands family is quite the opposite… burdened, emotionally distraught…

Here’s the thing…

This pregnancy exists whether it is celebrated or not.

There is no undoing it, no rewinding time to a version of life that feels more convenient or less frightening to others.

I am pregnant. I want this child. And for me this is not reckless or impulsive… it is deeply considered and profoundly personal.

I have spent much of my life learning how to survive instability, how to love without guarantees, how to show up for children who never fully accepted me, never saw me as even simply a parent figure and were not born of my body but still needed consistency, care, and protection that overtime, despite so many of my failures and mistakes, I learned how to provide. I did not step into motherhood lightly when I became a stepmother to four children. I stepped into it knowing that love is not about blood alone. It never truly is… it is about daily choice, endurance, and sacrifice. That experience did not deter me from wanting my own child. It clarified it. Made it more grand and overwhelming (in a good way)

It has been my dream since I was little to have a child of my own, to experience pregnancy (no matter how terrified or avoidant I was of the experience I always felt the deep desire) to build something gentle and intentional from the very beginning. Waiting longer was not a neutral option for me. It carried real medical risk, real uncertainty, and real grief. I am 29. My husband is older. This window matters. My body matters. My future matters.

What I want matters.

We are not homeless. We are not incapable of feeding ourselves. We are not reckless or blind to reality. We are navigating a difficult economy while actively working toward stability, saving, and improvement. My family is ready to help, to show up, to surround this child with care. This is not denial… it is faith paired with effort.

What is most painful is not concern. It is judgment I’m receiving. It is resentment I’m forced to accept… It is being told directly or indirectly by my husbands family that my child is an inconvenience, a mistake, or a burden before they have even taken a breath.  And that is exactly how I was “welcomed” into my husbands family at the beginning. Those words and attitudes do not protect anyone. They only wound and create distance. And there is way too much as it is and I just want it to stop.

I understand fear. I understand disruption. But this is not a debate to be won or lost. This is a reality to be reconciled with. Continued snide comments, coldness, or opposition is not going to cgange what is happening… they only damage relationships that could otherwise grow.

I am asking for something simple (and I know is not easy)… respect. If joy is not possible yet, then I’ll accept neutrality. If approval feels unreachable, then I’ll take the silence over cruelty. This child is coming. They are wanted. As my husbands kids are to me. They are loved already. As my husbands kids are to me. And I will not apologize for choosing life, hope, and a dream I have carried my entire life.