Hi stalkers,

I am 143 months pregnant and baby #2 is finally coming in just a few short weeks.

Time flies when you are chasing a toddler around and cleaning up dog vomit having fun.

As I am nearing the end of my second pregnancy, I am flooded with hormonal, sweaty emotions about what is yet to come.

Except this time I feel completely different than I did with my first pregnancy.

When I was pregnant with Teddy, it was all consuming. All I thought about every second of every day was being pregnant, having a baby, decorating the nursery, buying cute maternity clothes, baby proofing our house, counting his kicks in my belly, and reading parenting books. I had so many hopes and expectations of becoming a mother.

This pregnancy I literally forget that I am pregnant all of the time. The only time I remember that I am pregnant is when I eat a burrito stuffed with macaroni and cheese or when my mother oh so kindly reminds me that I am waddling and getting bigger every day.

Rude.

I just don’t think about being pregnant and having a baby constantly this time and more importantly, I don’t have any expectations for having this baby or having 2 kids.

I can finally accept that I just don’t know what I don’t know.

Maybe it’s because I’m older. Maybe it’s because I’m wiser. Maybe it’s because I needed blog content. But mostly, I think it’s because having one child taught me that everything I expected to happen the first time around turned out to be wildly wrong.

My expectations of becoming a mother and the reality of becoming a mother just didn’t turn out to be the same.

In both wonderful and dreadful ways.

Expectation: I would go into labor naturally and I would get to experience labor like millions of other women.

Reality: I was induced and had an emergency c-section.

Expectation: I would love my child.

Reality: I didn’t even know what love was until I had a child. There are no words to describe that amount of love.

Expectations: I would be a stay at home mom.

Reality: I’m a working mom.

Expectation: My motherly instincts would kick in and I would always know what to do.

Reality: I Googled every damn thing I did.

Expectation: I would be a super mom. You know the rational, sane, caring, always puts her child first kind.

Reality: Sometimes I selfishly hide the last cookie so I don’t have to share it with Teddy.

Expectation: I would love being on maternity leave. Who wouldn’t love a vacation from work?!

Reality: I slowly lost my mind and needed Eric to save me more times than I can count.

Expectation: Teddy would have the personality we taught him to have.

Reality: He was born with own personality without any regard for us.

Expectation: Breastfeeding would be easy.

Reality: I barely produced any milk.

Expectation: Being a mother would be great.

Reality: There is nothing greater in the entire world.

Expectation: Being a mother would be hard.

Reality: There is nothing harder in the entire world.

Expectation: I would be brave.

Reality: I feared everything.

Expectation: I would be weak.

Reality: I am stronger than I ever knew possible.

So now I don’t expect anything at all for this new little boy coming into our lives because I know the universe will laugh at all of our plans anyway.  No matter what happens, it will be okay. I will survive. I will fail. I will succeed. I will wear something cute while doing it. I will blog about it.

I will punch the next person who asks me if I’m having twins.

But more importantly, I can’t wait to meet this little boy. I can’t wait to find out what his personality is like. I can’t wait for him to come into our lives and completely change our world.

Stay tuned.

Love,

Kate

 

 

*Image by Mike Monteiro.