In 2007, M and I were just 20-somethings stumbling through life. We went drinking on Tuesdays, shared a bedroom in the home of a more responsible friend and were passionately committed to our profession — journalism. We were engaged in the classic tumble toward adulthood.
But toward the end of that year, we tripped. I’ll spare you the details. But one little pink line later and we found ourselves thrust into a world we didn’t anticipate being a part of until later in life. We found ourselves comparing obstetricians instead of sampling beers. Discussing baby names instead of the state of journalism. And thinking about mortgages instead of rent.
We became accidental parents.
There are millions of us out there. Some married. Some not. Sometimes we’re ashamed. Sometimes we’re proud. But we would all agree that “the accident,” which now bears various nicknames ranging from “love” to “goofball,” is beautiful.
Not fresh flowers beautiful. Or even Monet beautiful.
Ocean beautiful.
Beautiful in a beckoning, curious, dangerous way. With gorgeous sands and jellyfish; seahorses and crabs; cuddles and temper tantrums; tremendous love and tremendous frustration. It’s complex and yet, natural and simple.
This blog is about that beauty, how it shapes me and how I shape it.
I could not have described the process any better. thank you for your writing. ~from one accidental parent to another