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.
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.
*Image by Mike Monteiro.