Preparing … Subconsciously…

I’m sneak attacking my own brain. That’s right, you heard correctly. I find myself saying things to myself and swaying me to do things I don’t understand. Here’s what’s happening, the husband and I have been discussing that whole kid business. You know, first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a combination of Tim and Leila in a baby carriage. Having kids FREAKS ME OUT. It’s not that I don’t want them it’s that I have a fear (probably from watching too many horror films) that my child will try to kill me. I mean like I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and there is the fruit of my loins standing over me with a kitchen knife and some kind of devilish strength to plunge that thing into my chest. Wish I was kidding. 

Besides my abnormal fear, I’m also just scared of having them, carrying a baby (both internally and externally), getting pregnant, not dropping the baby on its head, having something so very dependent on me that I can’t leave it alone. It’s a life changer and I know it will be enriching and I know I will love it more than I thought possible but I’m looking from the outside in and it looks, well, like a horror film. Weight gain, hemorrhoids, poop, vomit, no sleep, exhaustion, diseases, SIDS, sciatica, complications - it looks TERRIFYING.  

That being said, there is a war going on inside of me. While I have the crippling fear, something else is moving in the mist. I’ve started on prenatals. I find myself taking mental notes of random things. For instance, I almost bought clothes because “they would be great for when I’m knocked up.” I have come up with recipes that I have filed away in my brain as “kid-friendly.” I made up a recipe this morning for breakfast and it dawned on me that I started rationalizing that this would be great for when Tim and I have kids and they get all picky and don’t want waffles or cereal or pancakes for breakfast and instead of backhanding them and being put in jail I could make them this dish. I’ve even bought a pair of baby shoes and stashed them away for “when it’s time.”

I’ve always been good with kids, I usually enjoy their company more than adults, it’s why I’m a good babysitter, it’s why when I see and infant I know exactly how to hold it, it’s why I tend to mother my friends when they’re sick or had a rough day and need a hug and some cookies (aka wine).

My mentality since I was young has always been – just because I would make a great mom doesn’t mean I have to be one. However, now I find that as I’m slowly, very slowly, getting used to the idea I can’t stop planning my future with kids. Some days I crave them, other days I sit back with a beer and think my life is rad, why change a thing. That gorilla, that movement, that other dimensional monster in the mist that is churning and leisurely beating back the fear is starting to win me over and as I chew my prenatal gummies (pills are for chumps), I’ve accepted the fact that I am destined to be a mommy, whether I know it or not. My poor, poor children. 

The Firefighter in Me

Since starting my mission to become a volunteer fire fighter no one has really ever asked me WHY I am doing it. It’s a reasonable question. I, personally, have a lot of family members involved in the fire department but if you look on the wide scale of how many people I know there aren’t a whole lot of fire fighters, EMTs or even nurses. The path to becoming a firefighter is a long, winding one full of laws, technical terms, education, training and low pay. Right now I am stressing myself out and worrying over my Emergency Medical Technician coursework and I’m just trying to become a volunteer. I’m not even doing this as a career choice.

 

By the end of it all, I will have put my mind and body through some pretty hellish situations and yet my biggest fear isn’t about what will happen once I’m on call or what will I do when someone is dying on me or even how will I control my nerves during exams and labs it’s the thought of not finishing. I’m more terrified of giving up than I am of being a fire fighter. I’m more worried that if I don’t pass my EMT coursework that my training will stall or end all together.

Last night was my first real EMT class, quizzes on the first two chapters, lectures, the whole shebang. The instructor went to everyone in the class and asked why they were taking this course. The answers varied as did the ages. Some were fire fighters in the military and they wanted to transition to civilian life and stay in the field. Some grew up in a fire house. Some wanted to get into the medical field. Some wanted to be firefighters. Some wanted to be paramedics. I have the pedigree, I have the background. My father is a retired Battalion Fire Chief, my stepbrother and cousin both are in the fire department. My husband’s family is also in the fire department. My answer could have been easy and concise. It wasn’t what I expected.

“I love my community and I want to be an asset to them by becoming a volunteer firefighter.”

I couldn’t tell you where it came from. It wasn’t anything else anyone had said. There weren’t many people who admitted to going through all of this just to volunteer. Who weren’t making this a career choice. I do love my community. I loved it when I was a reporter for the North Kitsap Herald and I love now. The people are kind, the roads are paved and everyone is supportive. When I started to work from home, I panicked on what I would do to make it so I didn’t lose my mind. I toyed with the idea of volunteering at the Library or the humane society or at the horse rescue. My heart would have been into all of those things. Once the idea of volunteer fire fighting came into my head, though, it wasn’t leaving and it became a mission, it became a goal, it became real.

It’s only now, that I’ve truly started down the path that I am realizing what this will take out of me. I will be sacrificing my mind, body, time and effort. I will be studying, I will be physically active, I will be mentally taxed and I will do it all with a smile, because this is the choice I have made and this is what I want to do with my free time. I’m not doing it for the “maybe” glory of being a fire fighter. I’m not doing it because of my dad. I’m not even doing it to save lives. I’m doing it so I can live every day and know I am trying to do something bigger than myself that I am offering myself to something great.