22w

Most mornings, I wake up to the sounds of my husband getting ready for work - and the sensation of guilt that immediately washes over me. Guilt that he's up and at it again, facing the daily grind...while I'm lying in bed. Guilt that he's bearing the weight of our financial responsibilities, dealing with the frustrations of a job that sometimes takes the spark out of his eyes and the bounce out of his step. Guilt that he tells me on a daily basis that it's not a problem, that I'm the most important person in his life and given the chance, he'd make the same decision again to support me as I left a steady paying career to find myself.

Most days, I find ways to turn my guilt into motivation to find new ways to make our lives better. I stay on top of the housework, I pay all the bills, I clip coupons and try to find ways to cut corners without sacrificing any of the things we love to do. I attempt to maintain a sense of purpose, all the while knowing that there are millions of women who do these things while holding down a job and raising children - many without the help of a supportive partner to ease the load. I try to make our home a good one, a place he wants to come to at the end of the day - and while most days I succeed, there are the days where I want to fall apart. Those days are the days that I beat myself up for being so selfish as to put the burden on him, for putting him into this situation and for allowing our roles to become so clearly defined. I put myself into a box and allow myself to dwell on the mistakes I've made, even as I acknowledge they cannot be erased. I wonder where I'd be had I not found out I was pregnant shortly after leaving my job to find a new one, and then I push that thought out of my head as I realize the what ifs don't matter.

Most nights, I stare at him while we are eating dinner, watching tv or getting ready to go to sleep - and I am overcome with emotion. I cannot even adequately express the amount of respect and admiration I have for this man, the one who loves me unconditionally and takes me as I am. He's the one who wants to spend his life with me, who would do anything and everything to make me smile, and he's the one that has given me the gift of becoming a mother and finding out who I really am in the process. He's allowing me the opportunity to find myself, to figure out all of the answers to the questions I've always asked myself, and he's doing it without an ounce of remorse or resentment. I'm not easy, and I'm not perfect - but as complicated and flawed as I may be, he makes it all disappear the second he kisses the top of my head and places his hand gently on my stomach to say goodnight to our baby before we drift off to sleep. I'm damn lucky, and I'm blessed to be where I am. I may not know all of the answers, and I may not know where we'll end up. But we are a family, and we will figure it out. Together.