Here I am at 3:30 in the morning, can't sleep, and Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch is my friend. Some thoughts I've had lately, which I dare to share here.
It goes without saying that having a child is a highly emotional process. This re-realization has hit me squarely in the past few weeks as George's arrival is coming closer and closer. Originally my due date was set at January 25, but that date has gotten moved up and changed a few times, and Dr. B has now predicted that George could come as early as the beginning of January (my estimated date of birth is January 7). At my last appointment he expressed concern that if I had bought Fiesta Bowl tickets, I would not be allowed to go. I told him to call me crazy, but traveling to another region of the country at 37 weeks pregnant hadn't seemed fun or smart so I planned to watch the game from home. (In the words of Homer Simpson, "I'm no genius! Or are I?")
Anyway, as the time is drawing more near, my emotional instability is becoming ever-present. With the first pregnancy I was crazy with worry about the baby's health, how delivery would go, what kind of pain I would experience, and questioning my own personal fitness as a parent. These things are of less concern to me now, having gone through this process before, but I have actually experienced a whole new set of worries this time around with George...worries that I never expected, because how can one expect complexities that have never existed? To be brutally honest, I spend some of my time worrying, "What have we done? Nothing is wrong with our lives! Why are we changing things up?" I worry that Silas will feel betrayed, as though he wasn't good enough and so I needed a stab at a second child. I worry that my children will hate each other. I think, what if I don't love George as much as I love Silas? I find myself imagining 'Sophie's Choice' situations and then begin feeling conflicted and guilty. This is all crazy and yet normal, right? I wouldn't really know since I have never given birth to a second child.
Family members and close friends to which I have confided have reassured me that all will be well. Most of all, BJ has been amazingly supportive, as ever, and has listened to my fears, wiped my tears, and promised me that the second we meet this child all of this worry will fall to the wayside. He said, "Just wait until you hold him. He'll be so little. He'll have brown hair and brown eyes." BJ reminds me of why we wanted this in the first place: because we have SO loved being parents to Silas that we just wanted to double the fun and begin the experience all over again. I sound like a crybaby, as I am fully aware of our incredible good fortune that we have had not one, but two healthy pregnancies and can expectantly plan for this second child, and I'm sorry if this sounds insensitive. In the end though, it admittedly is a "bittersweet" experience, to use the words of my good friend Emily. On one hand we look to the joy of welcoming a new little boy into our home, and on the other hand I kiss my oldest little boy goodnight every night, wondering when will be the last night his face is the only little face that I kiss, and for some stinking reason I feel a sadness that our time as a family of three is coming to an end.
I am holding out good hope and anticipating that four will be wildly better than three, though. =)