I’ve been planning to write a blog for a while. Tell my story. For therapy for me but also to hopefully have other people see that they’re not alone.
I’m a few months off turning 28 years old. I love babies and children. My extended family have a saying that as soon as a baby is born I’m there. Generally true. I love babies. They’re beautiful. I haven’t always wanted to have a baby. When I was 11 I said I was going to adopt a little Ethiopian girl. But since I’ve got older it’s what I want. I want experience all the joys and terrors of pregnancy. I want to have a loving husband to share the excite me of growing a person our love created. I want to see my baby grow up and teach it to love as I have. I want to let them know that I too have had a broken heart and recovered when I thought I’d die.
I can’t do that right now though. Because I don’t know if it’s true. I don’t know if I will find love again or if I’ll have a baby of my own to love. That’s pretty terrifying to me as I’ve wanted this for a long time and I’ve already got enough on my plate to reprocess. The big possibility that I’ll soon be diagnosed with some form of anxiety or depression or both is a pretty big surprise.
I love food. Cooking it and eating it. Good food. I love new recipes and discovering new amazing ways of using different products. I love travelling. I go to new places and try to experience them as a local. Majority of the places I’ve been to in the world I’ve missed the tourist spots. Instead I’ve eaten at the bar with locals. Gone to the local markets and tried to learn the local phrases you can’t get through a day without using.
Let’s see how we go…
Mila in the Red