Am I Ready?

by Cookie

pixabay.com

pixabay.com

36 weeks.

We’re here.  Anytime after this and baby is term.  Is that right? Soon there will be another twee babe to look after and fill my days with.  Just finish up my loose ends with students and have the baby.  All systems go.

And then we were having dinner with friends on Saturday night with friends when someone asked me “Are you sure you’re ready for another baby?”.

Of course I am, silly.

But am I?  Really?  I mean, it’s not like I can change my mind at this point or anything, but holy shit it kind of hit me for a second.  We have all the things.  The room is pretty much ready to go.  There are clothes and toys and newborn size diapers.  There’s a couple of bottles of wine in the fridge and an Texas Mickey size bottle of gin on order.

We. Are. Ready.

And yet here’s the thing.  As I watched my darling little Destroyer play outside all weekend, so happy, so beautiful, so sweet and perfect, I shook in my boots a little.  Life will never be this simple again.  I kind of feel guilty for taking these moments away from her.  She has been the center of my whole universe for almost two whole years, and now she has to share her spotlight.

And that makes me feel horrible.  Which is kind of retarded, right?  I mean people have more than one baby all the time.  It’s just…. I feel like I don’t want her specialness to fade.  I don’t want to forget just how much I love her because I am overwhelmed by my love for Little Buddy.  Or overwhelmed by the work and newness of it all.

Because as I watched her this weekend, I wondered to myself how I produced such a kind, inquisitive, content little child.  I am so, so proud of the tiny person she is becoming, and I don’t want to miss out on any her moments.

Will it feel the same to walk hand in hand with her when I have a baby in a sling or in a stroller too?  Will she ask the same questions and babble away at all the things we pass?  Will I remember to listen and pretend to understand what the hell she is saying even when the words aren’t real?  Will I still pay enough attention to her so she doesn’t have to act like an asshole to get it?

Will I survive my maternity leave without enrolling in AA this fall?  Will sleep deprivation turn me into a huge mess?  Will this baby be a total horror in comparison to the easy nature of my Destroyer?  Will we still have Sunday Nights With Bestie and watch True Blood all summer?

Life will never be the same.  Just like it was never the same after the first time, and we figured that one out, right?

So yeah.  I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.  But if Destroyer ends up in Juvy by the age of 5, you’ll know I fucked it up.

 

 

 

 

 

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