Someone asked me the other day how completely excited was I to be pregnant and having another baby. Obviously, I responded with, "Totes, ma goats- so excited", because I am.
Then at night, when I can't sleep and I'm listening to Matt snore, I realize I am ridiculously terrified and I wonder what in the good hell I was thinking.
Not because I don't know what I'm doing or what to expect, but because I totally know what I'm in for. And I made a conscious decision to get pregnant, knowing exactly what I'm in for.
I think it maybe would be a different story if my kids weren't currently 9 and almost 7. I think if they were still little and Jackson was just getting ready to go to school, I wouldn't feel so scared. I wouldn't feel so much like my life was over, mostly because I didn't have a life or any kind of freedom. We're at that sweet spot where freedom is kind of close. We can see it on the horizon. We're almost to the point where we could leave Olivia at home and run to Target without her. We can sleep in on the weekends and know that the kids will feed the animals, feed themselves, keep themselves entertained, get dressed and clean up- all without us.
It's really a glorious thing.
And it's all going to be gone soon.
I lay in bed this weekend thinking, shit- my days of laying in bed until 10 a.m. are numbered. I'll be getting up at 5 a.m. because a baby will have shit it's diaper and refuse to go back to bed. I'll be back to watching PBS cartoons while feeding a baby hoping I can shower that day. I have to learn to navigate the world of play groups and mommy cliques all over again.
It's terrifying. If you've never had to walk into a play group as the new mom who doesn't belong, you don't know that debilitating feeling. It's worse than high school, I swear. And god forbid they see you with a bottle versus your breast to feed or you casually mention you sometimes feed your kids a Happy Meal, you think cloth diapers are disgusting, you vaccinate and you circumcised. It's brutal.
At the same time, I am ridiculously excited. I can't wait to have all of the baby milestones and I feel far more mentally prepared this time around. I feel like a part of me has something to prove to myself. That I can absolutely do this, I can be super mom. I also worry, rightfully so, that I'll have Penelope and it'll be glaringly obvious that my first two are total flukes and I, in fact, am a terrible mother and it's a miracle I've kept two alive this long.
I feel all of this pressure to be good at this again. I am really scared that I might end up being a stay at home mom and I'll be so terrible at it. That I'll end up hating it and resenting my baby. That'll I'll be jealous that Matt gets to leave and not smell like baby poop and have formula in his hair.
So it's a weird spot I'm in. I don't ever remember feeling this way with Olivia or Jackson. With Olivia I just so stupidly assume motherhood was this thing I'd just be good at and I'd have all this instinct and it would be fine. Then it became obvious in less than five minutes after birth that oh shit, being a mom is HARD and please god let me take a nurse home with me. By the time I had Jackson, I was so tired and depressed that I figured surely it can't get worse. And it didn't, I was the exact opposite with Jackson- I felt like an old pro and I handled the transition from one to two amazingly well, much to the shock of basically everyone who watched me struggle with Olivia for two years. So this time, I don't know. I feel like it could go either way and I'm scared. I'm scared I'm doing the wrong thing for Olivia and Jackson. I feel like because our family trips are kind of done, at least for awhile, I'm ruining the childhood they could have had.
All because I wanted to nibble baby toes again.
At least we know I've got the mom guilt thing nailed.