People keep asking me if I am "ready." I'm not quite sure what that means. Does it mean am I ready to have a baby in the house? Ready to stop being pregnant? Ready to be the mother of two? No matter the intent, the answer would really be the same: yes and no. I have diapers and clothes and a place (actually, several places) for him to sleep. I am stocked up on detergent and baby wipes. The hospital bag and car seat can be ready to go in ten minutes or less, and I got a pedicure on Sunday. But I need an oil change and new tires and a gift for the baby from Mia and one for Mia from the baby, and I haven't picked any pants to wear home from the hospital and the child still needs a middle name. And I haven't made Mia's baby book and I would really like to do the taxes first and I'm not even full term yet so no, I think it would be best if he waits another couple weeks.
I am very ready to get my body back to myself, at least partially, and am ready for the heartburn and hip pain to end. I am ready to lose this weight, not because of appearance issues because I think I look just fine, even if my thighs are rather chunkier than I prefer (but then, aren't they always?), but because it makes me physically uncomfortable. But I am terrified of labor, terrified of delivery, terrified of recovering from surgery while trying to mother my toddler. And I regret, just a bit, the retiring of my uterus. Not in a "want another baby" sort of way, just in a "enjoyed making the two I've got" sort of way.
And I have no idea if I am ready to be the mother of two. Based on my performance of the past few weeks though, I would have to say no. I seem to spend all of my time snapping at Mia. She is just so energetic and willful and challenging, which is wonderful and appropriate and I adore it, but I am so tired and so sore and it really is so hard for me to get up off the floor, walk across the room, bend down and retrieve whatever toy she has asked for so nicely with two pleases and a premature thank you that I just can't stop myself from taking it out on her. And oh, how I hate that, how angry I get at myself for doing that, but she still gives me kisses so I suppose she still loves me and I hope she is willing to tolerate Crabby Mommy for at least a few more weeks. (At which point, Crabby Mommy will be replaced by Zombie Mommy.)
Ready? Yes and no. But it doesn't much matter, does it? This baby is coming when he's coming, ready or not.