My Last Day before Motherhood

(Deep breath) In one day, I will ship off to Nine Wells Hospital in Dundee for my elective cesearan surgery.
Let me take a deep breath again. Actually, it's in a matter of hours now.

This is my last day on this planet of being solely responsible for myself. And I'm absolutely terrified.

The last month has been hectic and stressful while Andy and I try and tie up all the loose ends and get the apt. and ourselves ready for the new member of our family to arrive. It's been interesting to see how people friends and strangers react to us as well as seeing my reaction to others.
I've been learning so much about myself. For example, I hate leaving the house because I feel that everyone stares at my belly as we walk down the street. It feels like there's this big spotlight on me belly in a town where I already stand out racially. I don't like that attention. And so, I just want to hide.

I'm also learning that people (particularly family members) have very different reactions to the coming birth. Some members are more concerned with keeping their daily work routine rather than actually being present for the child's first day on this planet. Some members haven't even bothered to send a gift, much less a card. (This is a truly pathetic display of parental love considering I have friends who have spent literally hundreds of dollars on essential baby needs and my family has done nothing).
At this point, there's no telling if they will even make the journey from America to see the child...possibly one of the only chances before they die.

I wish I could say I had that close-knit family that would drive me crazy with attention and love. But that's not the case. That has never been the case. It will never be the case. I accept that now.

My true family have always been supportive and joyful for me. They are not blood related but their dedication and loyalty to me, Andy and our baby is thicker than blood.

My entire pregnancy has been difficult physically, emotionally, and mentally. I can't say I've enjoyed it. I've been sick every single day since I found out I was knocked up. There has been nothing that anyone can do. It's just what some "lucky" women experience.
Sometimes, I feel down because I'm just worn out from being sick all the time and I am not enjoying the pregnancy. I feel selfish for wishing I had my body to myself again and I was in control of what shape and size I am. I wish I only felt only excitement instead of fear and worry.

The propagation of our species is the most innately natural aspect of life and yet, none of this feels remotely "natural" to me.
There's always that voice in my head (sometimes quietly, sometimes blaringly loud) saying: what the hell did you get yourself into?!

Becoming a mother was never something I imagined for myself. But now that that role is immiment, I've oscillated between terrifying feelings, others of excitement and slight depression.
I am a worrier. I don't want to be the kind of parent my parents were. Andy and all my friends try and reassure me that I will be a great parent. But despite that, I wish I had my mom here for support.

This is the first time in my life I find that I actually need her and she's gone.

For whatever reasons, my friends and husband are 100% sure that I will make an excellent mother. I can only trust that my friends are right--that I am instinctually maternal and will be a great mother. I keep repeating to myself that I must, that I will love my child and show them that I accept them completely. And then I have the image of them ending up on Jerry Springer 15 years from now, as the newest "video-ho" or explaining that going through life lazy, fat, and stupid with a string of kids from multiple partners is the best thing.

I swear, I'll kill that child!

But I am a person of logic, an observer of patterns, and most importantly, "evidence". I have nothing here to guide me that would make me believe what my friends and husband seem to just "know".

For the first time in my life, I will have to go simply on FAITH that I will be a good mother.