The Countdown

Springtime is, [literally] by nature, an optimistic time. Open windows, the light green of brand new leaves, the smell of the grill, no mittens or heavy coats to cart around, and small bare feet exploring the backyard.  Sitting in the sun while The Crazy One naps, feeling the energetic jabs of her little sister with the sappy sentimentalism only third trimester hormones bring, knowing this Spring in particular is a time for gratitude and optimism.

However, feeling the Seriously Energetic jabs of her little sister, with the growing awareness that only third trimester realities bring, I’ve found that this Spring is also a time for intermittent waves of panic. It’s like the Braxton Hicks of parenthood; you know your body is “preparing” for what’s to come, but you also know it ain’t a fraction of The Real Deal.  These moments of realization have taken me off guard a bit.  I mean, Honey was no surprise, not by any means. Quite the contrary.  So the fact that she will soon be Actually Here should not be a surprise either.

And yet… all that comes with her impending arrival does take me by surprise some days. At the latest doctor’s appointment, we found out that signs of preeclampsia could be creeping into the picture again; thus a distinct possibility that Honey will be here sooner than later now factors in. Which gets a mama thinking “Whoa boy, are we ready?” [Cue laugh track, please].

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I thought ‘this time’ would be easier, because we’ve done it before. We’ve been there; we should remember the newborn/baby routine right?   But a) I can’t remember if I’ve put on deodorant 3 hours ago; how will we remember what we did 2 and ½ years ago? b) Honey is going to be an entirely different human than Adalyn. All the “What if’s” of the unknown start to creep in… what if she won’t nurse? What if something goes wrong in labor? What if she has colic or won’t sleep at all at night? What if there’s 1,000 things we haven’t thought of yet? For example, with Adalyn, we had our hospital bag packed probably 8 months in advance, complete with an ipod holding a special calming playlist, my own pillow, lucky shirts, new pj’s and slippers, and knowing me, probably photo albums, all the notes from childbirthing class, some paintings for the walls to make it feel like home, a pound of chocolate, Wallie, etc.

I realized the other night we will need one of these said bags again. I was wracking my brain trying to remember items we’d need. A tooth brush? Some sort of birth plan? Probably underwear? Which led me to realizing we needed other items lined up. Like the infant carseat installed again, the bassinet, clean sheets for everything, bottles and pump supplies all washed and ready; I realized I needed to buy those beloved boob pads again. Enter, wave of  high-level-boob-pad-induced-panic.

What has taken up the most mental and emotional “space” is worrying about Adalyn. Wondering if she’ll be okay; will she be sad? Will she be confused when we go to the hospital? Will she feel neglected or cast aside? Will she be gentle with Honey? Will she play while the baby nurses or needs something?   Logically, I also know all of this is hi-larious. Yes,  ya moronic mother, she will be okay. And No, she will not play quietly at our feet while I nurse the baby (or, you know, ever). But this happens every day to toddlers who become siblings and somehow, they survive, and Adalyn will too. The same way she does when she tragically has to keep her pants on in the grocery store or eat corn at dinner.  Ultimately, sharing one’s parents’ attention is in fact healthy and if not, there’s always free counseling in college, right? And the truth is that while there are going to be adjustments, I cannot wait to watch her become a sister; I can't wait to see them become playmates and best friends. For years to come, they'll have each other. She doesn't know that yet, but she will. 

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At any rate, there’s quite the rollercoaster of these ridiculous sorts of worries along with the highs of can’t-wait-for-this-baby, imagining magical moments ahead, and being so ready to grow the family.  It reminds me of leaving for a trip overseas to somewhere spectacular…. planning this incredible trip, mapping out what we hoped to do, camera ready, journal in hand, ready to experience the adventure. And right when you step on the plane, there’s this feeling of both panic and excitement, knowing something big is about to happen.  

To quote one of the greatest movies of all time (yeah, I’m not ashamed. I still love this movie as much as I loved it – and Bruce Willis- in 6^th grade). In Armageddon, you know, right before they take off into space to save the world, Owen Wilson/Oscar says as they are being strapped in, “I’m like 98 percent excited and 2 percent scared.    … Or maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe I’m 98 percent scared and 2 percent excited, but that’s what makes it’s so great, so intense!” That’s about where I stand ...I just need a maternity NASA jumpsuit. 

Anyway, I guess the comfort of this being the second kid is Not (as I thought) having it all figured out by any means. It is, in fact, an acceptance of the lack-there-of, the comfort that being somewhat green is okay, that not having all ...or any of...the answers will always happen. Not only do you survive it, but you love it.  Before we know it, our good friend Hindsight Bias will be there convincing us we had all the right answers all along anyway.

In the meantime, I think we’re reaching That Point of the trip. It’s time to buckle up, team.  Our next adventure awaits. Let the countdown begin….

*A special thanks to Amanda Coco/FramedbyAmanda Photography for her wonderful ability to capture baby-belly-time in the first two photos.  ...I don't think she took the one of Owen Wilson though....  :D