All according to plan...

So yeah, I got married and stuff.

Thus far I'm loving married life--if you exclude, of course, my severe lack of employment--and I look forward with great anticipation to all that the future has to bring for me and Daniel. But somehow, I also feel a bit uneasy about it all. Well, okay, that's a lie. I'm not uneasy about everything. I guess you could say I'm feeling... overwhelmed. I know, it's completely ridiculous to think of me as being overwhelmed. For crying out loud, I don't even have a job. I slept until 11:00 this morning. With the exception of the job hunting I did, the only effort I made today was to bake a loaf of bread. And, truth be told, the bread machine did all of the work.

But still, overwhelmed is the prevailing feeling. It's not the job search, though I do despise that. It's not even the long post-wedding "To Do" list of thank you notes to be written, items left to be bought, or legal matters to be dealt with. Strangely, it's the thought that I've surrendered my ability to choose. In a sense, I've surrendered myself.

Before you jump to any conclusions, no, Daniel is not in any way overbearing or controlling, nor do I feel that marriage is a sacrifice of individuality. I love him, and I love us. It's simply that everything feels so mapped out now, so planned. After marriage, the next step is children and everything that goes with them--big pregnancy announcements; awkward photographs of my increasingly large belly; polls of friends and family to see who can guess the baby's gender; Facebook announcements of the birth, complete with pictures, the baby's stats, and a blog post telling the whole birth story; revolving all of my conversations around my and other people's children, the merits of various parenting techniques, and which stroller really is the best; an uncharacteristic concern about the healthiness and safety of the foods and cleaning products I buy; etc.; etc.; etc. Then, of course, there's the guilt--of not doing enough, or of doing it wrong. I've decided it's an inherently maternal thing, guilt. It seems it can't be helped.

Now I realize that my above portrayal of motherhood could seem like a criticism. I really promise it's not. I greatly respect and admire all of the mothers I know (especially my mom and sisters), and I realize that so many of the things I've just described are just part and parcel of being a parent. But therein lies my concern; it's as if there's no choice in any of it. I feel like I have to take the belly pictures and post the announcements and feel the guilt and debate the merits of strollers with my mom-friends. That's just the way it goes, right?

Ironically, I'm sure that when Daniel and I do decide to have kids, I'll want to do all of those parental things. I'll likely knowingly choose to do them and be glad that I did. But right now, if I'm being truthful, the whole idea of it scares the crap out of me. My one consolation is that when little Jibsons do come along, I'll be ready for them--and all the fuss and hoopla that come with them.

On a related note, no, I am NOT pregnant. When I am expecting (in good time, mind you), I'm sure I'll post a clever announcement on Facebook.