Just as she suspected, Jo was terrified. Her pain tolerance was always high and the labor wasn't very intense yet, so the terror was the only thing really bothering her. The contractions were nothing compared to the terror racing through her mind and heart. A fear that had been intensifying throughout her pregnancy, but she kept pushing it to the side. After all, she was on the pregnancy train now. No getting off.
Her husband knew of her fear and mostly dismissed it. He, like her doctor, recognized it and attributed to the fear of giving birth and handling parenthood. And Jo had let them then that rather than address the real heart of the issue. Jo wasn't scared of giving birth. She had been in the delivery room with her sister during the births of her two nephews. She was well aware of what would happen and felt prepared to persevere through the pain. She wasn't afraid of being horrible at parenting. Jo had grown up around kids. She wasn't delusional, she knew it would be the hardest thing she'd ever done and she knew she wouldn't always make the right choices, but she was sure she had the tools to raise a child.
The truth was buried deep inside Jo and now that she was facing the inevitable, she couldn't hide from it anymore. But still she tried, chastising herself in vain for even being in this situation. She had told her husband, even before their marriage, that she didn't want kids. He had worn her down, convinced her of the magic of a baby with their shared genes. Honestly, Jo had never cared about that. But she knew he did, that having a kid meant the world to him. She loved him and this was one piece of the world she could give him. So here she was. Love could make a fool out of anyone.
And this fool was having the baby she'd never really wanted to have. Not because she didn't love kids. In fact, it was maybe because she loved them too much. The only thing she could be sure of was that she loved this baby, but it terrified her that she couldn't assure it anything more. She was responsible for bringing this life into the world and she couldn't assure it good health, or a good life, or anything beyond each moment as it occurred. The fear was paralyzing. Her husband would have called it irrational, and maybe he was right. But it was a fear that Jo had held for as long as she could remember. Something like that is difficult to let go of. She remembered how her sister had been, excited about bringing a new life into this world. All Jo could think of was how messed up this world was and how selfish it was for her to bring a life into it.
Yet here she was, preparing to birth a child that she would feel guilt over until the day she died. Jo rubbed her belly and tried to hope. Hope that her child would never be so fearful, that her doubt and guilt and fear wouldn't permeate their life.
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