In my final (at the time of posting this) piece for HelloGiggles, I talk about how bad I am at giving a shit about myself.
One of my defining character traits is that I doubt myself at every turn. I question my intelligence, my talents, and my ability to pull off a goth pin-up girl vibe. But the one thing I’ve never worried about is whether I’d be a good mom. For whatever reason, my confidence in the face of eventual motherhood is unwavering. I can feel it in my bones: motherhood will suit me in a way few other things have.
But, as my husband Lawrence and I initiate Phase I of Operation Baby Lewis, with hopes of successfully conceiving them by the end of the year, I’m experiencing anxiety. Because even though I’m positive I can take care of my future kid, I have no idea how to take care of myself. I understand the general concept, of course: eat well, exercise, get quality sleep. The problem is I’m not great at following through on these self-care practices. All of that requires actually caring about myself—and that’s not something I excel at.
