At the still point of the turning world

It's very difficult to write about being pregnant without employing the same tired phrases and cliches that so many other women have used before me. But then nothing is said and I will look back on this time and not remember what exactly it was that I thought or worried about. So I will attempt to get at the feeling here, even if it is the same feeling as so many who have gone before me.
I am tired of women-those I know and those I do not- telling me the horror story delivery that they survived despite atrocious odds. I'm not sure if they think this is some badge of courage they feel they have earned and therefore have the right to brag about to any expectant mother they see, but it's frightening to those of us who haven't given birth before, because that could be me. And I don't want to almost die and have emergency anything done to me or the baby. By the sounds of it though, it's inevitable that something horrific happen. Maybe they don't realize the effect this has on us, the expectant mothers, that is. Maybe they don't know that I am an irrational sponge for information and as they recount the shades of blue they and or the baby turned, I file the information away for future use. I don't necessarily think that it will happen to me but I am petrified at the prospect.
I am also very afraid of my part in the chain of dependance created when a child is brought into the world. At this point, I have no career to leave so I will stay home for an indefinite amount of time and James will work. The physical and circumstantial factors of our lives make this both practical and necessary for us. But even though I know I will love this child, I don't think I love him yet. And so it is hard to picture the life of dedication and love I will have in two short months. I hope giving birth is a transformation. I hope I am awash in maternal euphoria that lasts far beyond the delivery room. Because right now I can't picture me happy at home with a small crying person alone.
The financial and emotional dependance I will feel towards James also frightens me. I am too much of a feminist, too much of an extrovert, too easily distracted and changed to feel fulfilled by only one adult person in my life. Aren't I?
I know I make this sound like I am moving to a small deserted island to commit my life to silence and self sacrifice and really there are plenty of people who will interact in my life and challenge and inspire both my emotional and spiritual and mental persons. But sometimes it feels like I am moving very far away from adult conversation and career paths and coffee dates and epiphany to that very solitary and child talking place- stay at home mothering.
I'm sure I'll be fine.