Thirty weeks. This Friday, I will be thirty weeks pregnant. Our little dino squiggles all day, punches and jabs at me and makes me cringe from the pressure from time to time. I am enamored with this little dance routine.
This is getting real.
In my previous post, I mentioned the awkward feeling of answering ‘is this your first?’ while feeling somehow to have betrayed the life created during my first pregnancy. I think it may always feel strange to know that there was a little could’ve would’ve been, a used to be, never got to be baby once, before this jostling, wiggling creature. That is something that I will likely carry within my heart as a knowledge just for (or largely for) myself.
That being said, the reality of a real, live, living, breathing, exterior child is truly sinking in.
And I am pretty dang nervous.
The transition has begun from baby loss anxiety to new parent anxiety.
I don’t know what the heck I’m doing, do I?
I manage to distract myself after work, occasionally painting, drawing, sketching artwork for baby’s room, reading blogs and pinning child rearing tips for the far and distant future, but the truth creeps in that this parenthood stuff is coming.
And it’s coming fast.
Diapers, cloth or disposable? Breast or formula feeding? how much sleep will she get? How much will I get? Will I be able to function? How long will it take us to figure it out?
I flip and flop from efficient soon to be parent to lazy pregnant lady in denial, rubbing my belly on the couch, watching the kicks and smiling absentmindedly, flipping through a book, managing to shove away for one more day a night’s worth of OH MY GOD WE ARE SO NOT READY!!!!
I know, I know, any of you followers out there (and I think some of you are still out there, despite the fact that this blog has seemed to take a turn towards a vastly different topic than some of you signed up for) that have gone through a newborn phase will likely tell me it all comes together, trust my instincts, whatnot.
I’ve never been great at chilling out and trusting myself, though, have I?
I guess I’ll have to take it as I’ve taken this pregnancy; on shaky, terrified legs, one step at a time, forever anxiously waiting for some phantom shoe to drop, while plastering on a smile when I’m scared and even allowing myself to be truly happy and excited when I can.
Anyone out there got any ‘I wish I had known this before the baby was born’ tips?