I dreamed last night that I had the baby, or at least that there was a charming newborn lying next to me in a hospital bed and I was trying to nurse the thing without accidentally snapping his little neck. But then it turned out my precious newborn son was some sort of bitter Vegas casino lizard and ultimately ended with him eating grapes (to my horror - choking hazard!) and berating me.
I'm a little apprehensive about this new kid. I remember feeling the same way with Mia, the whole "how am I going to manage this, what ever made me think this was a good idea?" thing, but I assumed I would skip all of that this time now that I'm already committed to the mothering thing. It is just that things are, mostly, so easy with Mia lately. She mostly sleeps, she sort of eats, she has enough language that she more often than not tells me what the hell her problem is rather than just screaming about it. She can sit and entertain herself for a few minutes while I brush my teeth or get dressed. She likes to help clean the kitchen. She can be easily bribed with candy. We have our little routines and our little outings and our little ways of doing things, and I am about to throw an infant into the mix and screw all of that up.
Chris and I worry a lot about the impact a new brother will have on Mia. Ultimately, of course, I think it will be a very good thing for her, but in the short-term I worry that it will be a hard transition, that she will not get enough attention, enough time, that she will somehow feel that we love her less. And that could never happen. In fact, I share the concern of seemingly all second-time moms that I am not sure I can ever love another child as much as I love Mia. And I know that you do, that the amount of love in the world is not finite, that your heart expands to hold all of your children, but god, you know? It's like Mia is my very bones right now, and I don't know how that happens.
And oh there is more, there is always more, but I think that is enough Thursday morning random anxiety to dump on the internet. The real problem with being pregnant is that you can't even down a bottle of wine to chill yourself out.