When I wrapped my mind around our wonderful news last week, I was all too thrilled and excited (and surprised!). "Wow," I thought. "He chose me again! He must really think we're doing a good job! What a wonderful blessing and testament to our marriage!"
I thought of itty-bitty-knitting, cuddling a newborn again, the warm nuzzle of nighttime with a babe at my breast...you get the picture. I daydreamed about a beautiful labor and a glorious, hormone esclated post-partum period. I wondered at the love my children would have for this new helpless sibling as they carefully covered us with blankies when we fell asleep on the couch.
Now, as I sit here typing with one thumb while I nurse my baby through the pain of his molars, I can't help but feel, well, helpless. What was I thinking?!
"God thinks I'm doing a good job!" Yeah?! Right?!
This isn't what I wanted. I was just begining to enjoy the occasional 1/2 spent in my bed alone with my husband. We haven't even had a real "date" since the last baby has been here.
And My Lovey. I really wanted more time for just he and I. Me and him (yes, bad grammar, I know). He's just a BABY, for Pete's sake. How am I supposed to explain this all to him?
And really, who am I kidding about doing such a great job? I have the shortest temper ever lately. I feel completely overwhelmed just trying to care for the children outside of my womb now, let alone when this baby increases their ranks on me. I don't have the slightest idea *what* I'm doing, let alone how to accomplish it all.
The never ending assault of laundry, dishes, and diapers is making my head swim. Not to mention the constant voice in my head reminding me to "eat right", which I just don't have time for, but which I know I need.
I am obsessing and worrying about everything. I know too much about pregnancy and giving advice that I am literally bursting with information that I know I am too stuck in my ways to follow, even though I will probably feel better if I do.
My children are bouncing off the walls, just tempting me to raise my voice at every turn. My kids depend on me for everything. My husband depends on me. I've got midwifery school, patients, homework. A house to run, homeschooling to manage. In the next few years, I am going to be completely reaponsible for teaching a real person to read.
I bet my older ones and husband are expecting a meal when they come in from chopping wood all day. Who is going to do all the cooking? I'm just going to get tired and sick.
My hands are already going numb at night, and I threw up the other morning.
My Flower sits at my feet and says, "Mama - I need jew."
Who is going to comfort me?
What *was* I thinking? Sheesh.