They say, the second time around is easier, smoother, shorter. Somehow the universe had me appeased for 8 long months that I would
be just fine. But alas, terror has set in. I am no more comfortable now, in 2013, as I was in June of 2011. The thought of a child coming out of me renders me paralyzed in fear and ultimately slightly regretful, that I put myself in this position, again.
I guess there is no way around it. Pregnancy ultimately leads to birth. Damn the universe.
In no way am I any more comfortable with a newborn this time around. Any pensive thought I have about the next month of my life elevates my heart rate, and makes me a little on edge. I enjoy motherhood just fine. Head/neck support, misinterpreted cries, diaper blowouts, and spit-up, not so much.
As I engulf you in my fears, know that I am completely aware that 3 months from now I will be blogging with a completely different mindset. But, at the moment, all I can think about is blood and guts and aliens and burning pee.
It is Saturday, I am holding out hope that the man on the full moon will be on my side Monday night as he was a little less than two years ago. You know, because I am extremely superstitious and all.
However, if there is anytime for superstition it’s in the face of desperation. There are only so many stretch marks, bladder punches, pee breaks, chocolate indulgences, mood swings, and torn pants that one woman can take.
I am grateful to have made it this far, I am. Happy to know that, up to this point my baby is, to my knowledge, healthy and content. Thrilled that my kidneys have cooperated as they have. Really just blessed.
Let’s be real though, this is my body and I want it back!