This is causing some kinda complicated musing in me, moo. When I got pregnant with my son, this was going on 26 years ago now, it was a good 10 years (if I did the math right) after I'd first tried therapy with 2 different t's because my parents made me go when they found out I had been dating a woman (t1 i walked out of the first session cuz he was a d*** and t2 there was no connection at all so I didn't see her for very long) and at the time of my marriage, I was so happy - loved my job, h and I had only been married like 2-3 months when I found out I was pregnant, being a mom was something i wanted with every fiber of my being. Looking back now, I can see that while I was happy, I was also very much living my life at a surface level if that makes sense, doing what was expected of me basically as far as marrying a man, working, having a family, etc. Don't get me wrong I really wanted to be a mom and that was about the only thing at the time that came from deep inside me. Besides wanting to be a mom, I had no idea what was going on inside, of the childhood wounds that needed healing, because I had shoved them down, covered them up, so that I could deny their existence to myself I suppose. If I hadn't been in so much denial and had known how messed up I was, I would have been afraid to have a child. I wouldn't have gotten married, either.

But I didn't know.