I don’t typically get very emotional on my blog. In fact, come to find out, I tend to hold pretty much everything inside for fear of coming across as weak and ill-equipped to handle my own life. This sort of scares me that I am exhibiting traditionally male attributes. Not saying all men hide their feelings away, letting them brew, but the majority of males in my life have been this way. So anyway, back to me. To be completely open and honest, this pregnancy has been one big dichotomy. On the one hand, I have felt a little disconnected from it since I have “been there, done that” and it allowed me to feel sort of cocky and know-it-all about the rudimentary process. That being said, I have also felt more connected to the baby. When he kicks, I feel sort of endeared to him in a way I never did with Elliot. I think this might be because now, two and a half years into raising a child, I know what this fetus will grow into and it somehow forges a different bond between us at this stage.
And on an entirely other hand (this is the third hand but it’s my blog so I can have three hands, ok?!) I am perhaps way more scared than I ever was the first go-round. For exactly the same reason as stated above. I KNOW what labor is like and I know how much it hurts. I know how maternity leave is both relaxing and the hardest, most stressful thing that a mother goes through (OK, maybe other than the death of a child, but – luckily – I have no experience there.) I also know the financial strain and how this time, I am already planning to go back earlier than with Elliot because I need to make money. The Daycare expense alone is driving me mad with worry.
I guess my biggest fear is that I won’t have the time or energy or love to give to Elliot once the baby is here. I know how I was the first go-round and the one who got neglected was Ash. I guess this time, I at least know what to expect and could avoid all of this. I don’t know. My emotional state today tells me otherwise. I could cry right now.
I’m angry and sad, jealous and apathetic. Ash is going rock climbing tonight and I can’t do that – because it is forbidden during pregnancy – and it just makes me long for the old days when he and I got home from work on Wednesdays and got changed, drove to the gym. We climbed routes for about two hours then stopped by Publix for dinner. We had all kinds of time for these things and everything was so… easy. I don’t regret Elliot, not for one second. We wanted a family and it’s far more rewarding and satisfying than the carefree days of simply being married. BUT, sometimes when Ash gets to go out and I am home, completely exhausted and feeling like a whale, lamenting all the physical things that are seemingly impossible at this time and dreading the upcoming labor and delivery, I feel very very low.
I’m rambling now but I think it was at least cathartic to write this down, to work through the issues. I am surely not the first mom to feel this way, nor will I be the last. It’s an under appreciated job, that’s for sure. And as they say, things always work out. But for now, there’s a hell of a lot of unknowns. It’s uncertain and wavering and utterly frightening. I know we’ll come out on the other side nary a hair harmed. But for now, it just feels… overwhelming.