Here’s a summary of what I’ve been thinking in regards to New Baby: HOLY CRAP, I’M HAVING ANOTHER BABY SOON!!!
It’s funny how this pregnancy is different for me. First and foremost, I’m healthy. No nasty costochondritis to deal with (so far… knock on wood). No pre-term labor scares (again, with the wood and the knocking). The worst of my ailments at this point (28.5 weeks along) is the persistent heartburn. But I can handle that. I did have a run-in with one of my morning sickness meds early on that was pretty scary (tardive dyskinesia from the reglan.) I’m feeling big and cumbersome and easily fatigued—but overall pretty okay. The major difference this time around is my mental state. I am calm! I am not afraid that something catastrophic is going to happen every time I cough or hiccup or feel a funny little twinge about the midsection. It’s great! My main worry about the pregnancy these days is that I’m not worried enough.
The pregnancy is one thing. Actually having a second baby is entirely different altogether. I’ve got plenty of worry about that! Up until about Christmas, the pregnancy and new baby were more of an abstract idea—something to talk about, mull over, and plan for… but not really “real”. The hecticness of the holidays and the constant “Next year at this time I’ll be doing this with 2” thoughts took their toll. In less than 3 months, we’re going to have an even more active, more mobile, more expressive toddler with jet-packs AND we’re going to have a tiny, tiny baby who has needs and funny schedules and itty-bitty clothes to wash.
For example, the reality of what my post-maternity leave after-work routine will be is harrowing. Right now, I get off work between 5 and 5:40, rush to daycare to pick up Emma and drive for 25 minutes back to the house. She usually screams 75% of the way home. I get home, corral her in the living room and take the dogs out before I start making dinner for the two of us. I try to have dinner on the table by 6:30—7:00 at the latest. Hurry through dinner and hopefully JMT comes home before we head her up to bath time and bed. I try to have her to bed by 7:30—8:00 at the latest. This rush gives me no time for any superfluous tasks. The time after 8, when I’m exhausted from a day that started at 5:30 am, is when dishes, laundry, showers and hair drying get done. Not to mention trying to have adult conversation with JMT. Where is a baby going to fit in there? Where does the nursing and the changing and the rocking go? I won’t go into the morning routine, but it’s basically this one in reverse starting well before the sun rises and culminating with me being at my desk at 8 am. There’s no room in the morning for me to have a second cup of coffee. How am I going to fit in this baby? Obviously the division of labor in the house is going to have to change. I think I’m going to appoint Rance in charge of laundry and floor mopping.
So those are the kinds of thoughts I’ve been thinking these days. A savvy commenter would note that the solution would be for me not to work, or to work less. I was lucky in Colorado to be able to work ¾ time, and I bet that a set-up like that would help a lot. Unfortunately, since we still own our Colorado house (and receive much less in rent for it than what we pay on the mortgage each month), the finances dictate that I work full-time. And it’s not that I’m looking for answers right now. I just thought I’d share what’s swirling around in my head right now.
But lest I make everything out to be negative and unpleasant, here’s an example of a ray of sunshine that keeps my life bright:
