Here’s the thing.
For all my talk about getting this baby out and not being pregnant anymore and I’m so miserable and blah, blah, blah…
I’m actually scared to death.
I am scared to go through labor again.
I am scared to push what I imagine will be a ten-pound baby out of my body.
I am scared to give birth around my co-workers.
I am scared to become a mother to what seems like a foreign land to me–a son.
Seriously, I’m going to have a son?? I can barely say the word. I find myself referring to the baby as simply that–“baby” or “baby brother.” Part of me thinks that’s why we are having so much difficulty choosing a name–having a boy just seems so unreal to me.
Maybe this all horrible to admit, but it’s the truth. I love being the mother of girls. I love that we have tea parties, and they tuck in their dolls, and we can have spa days and paint our nails. I love, love all of the little girl light and laughter in our lives now. Nothing makes me happier than the sight of a stroller parked, forgotten in the corner, or one discarded sandal near the doorway. I just love the reminders of the beautiful little girls that fill my days.
Granted, I know I will probably shake my head at this in laughter at myself after he’s here, but I just can’t help feeling that I won’t be a good mother to a boy. I’ve had four years of practice mothering my girls, and I’m terrified I will fail at all the “boy” stuff. I don’t have race cars, or superhero attire, or even a decent wardrobe for the poor kid. His room is still decorated with pink and brown and ladybugs. My favorite thing to do is curl up on the couch with my daughters and read together–will a boy have any interest in that? I don’ t know how to handle the non-stop action of a little boy.
I’m worried he will be alone in a sea of girls–destined forever as his older sisters’ plaything, dressed up and forced to play with things he has no interest in. How will I handle football games and dating and my secret horror–little boy parts??
Every day at this point seems hard. The waiting. The wondering if today is the day. Trying to calm the fear that threatens to overwhelm me when I think of what I have to do, what my body will be going through this week. What lies ahead in life with a newborn again. The entire dynamics of my family changing again. Losing my time with just me and my girls. A whole year of breastfeeding, my time limited in increments of milking. Opening my heart again to taking on the responsibility of raising a new soul…for life.