But I’m not.
I so want this to be over.
But I don’t.
Baby Dragon has officially spent more time in my womb than Quinn did. After threatening to make an even earlier appearance at 36 weeks, he’s decided to stay put a while longer. I’m still having occasional contractions, but they’ve gone back to being very mild and irregular. I don’t know why Dragon changed his mind. Maybe he got cable hooked up in there or something. I’m pretty sure he was moving a sofa around last night.
I’m glad we made it past 37 weeks, and now that Dragon will be full term, I’m ready for him to get here. I’m done being pregnant. It’s no big secret that I’m not one of those women who find pregnancy enjoyable. I want my body back. I want to sleep in comfortable position. I would give my left kidney for a sugar free Red Bull right now.
But just as I think this pregnancy can’t be over fast enough, I have the opposite feelings. I can’t want to meet my second son and hold him in my arms and see his little face, but… I need more time. I want more alone time with Quinn. As Hubs and I were leaving for the hospital the first time we thought Dragon was coming early, I watched Q get into his grandma’s car, and I almost fell apart. “No, not yet!” my mind screamed. “Not today. I don’t want our special time to end today!” I felt so relieved when the doctor sent us home, not just because Dragon could cook a little longer, but also because it meant I got to have a little more time with Q.
|Quality time with the Q-man - making Halloween cookies together|
When Dragon finally decides to stop watching football or whatever he’s doing in there, I will have to have another c-section. That means staying in the hospital for three or four days, being away from Quinn, and not knowing exactly when it will happen. To him, I will suddenly disappear. Even though Q will be well taken care of and come visit me often during that time, it will a tough change. And when I finally come back to him, I won’t be alone. I will have a baby with me. I’m trying to talk to Q about it and prepare him as much as I can, but I can’t stop worrying. I’m overcome with empathy for him, and I don’t want to be away from him for that long either.
Guilt swallowed me as Q climbed into grandma’s car that day. For the last eight months, I’ve been doing. I started working part-time, painstakingly searched for the right babysitter, then found a new babysitter, took an online class, threw Quinn’s train-themed birthday party, helped throw a friend’s baby shower, created Q’s big boy bedroom, enrolled Q in preschool, and now I’m even doing a little work for my former VP’s new start-up company. Not to mention finally crossing several household projects off my to-do list. I’ve spent this entire pregnancy being busy (“busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest,” as my funny friend, Whit, would say).
I completed the vast majority of these activities while Quinn slept (which means I didn’t sleep much), and Quinn spent a lot of time with a babysitter while I worked. I don’t necessarily regret becoming an independent consultant – filling the gap on my resume and having a non-mommy part of my life for a little while were definitely good things for me. But I do feel like I squandered valuable alone time with my son due to my insatiable need to accomplish.
My whole life, I've determined my self-worth by what I could accomplish – how much, how well, how quickly, how many things at once. I rarely do anything half-ass, and my standards for myself border on impossible. I don’t like the term “perfectionist,” but that’s exactly what I am.
Maybe that’s why I feel so guilty right now. Quinn and I actually did spend a lot of time together when I think about it. We went to parks, zoos and museums. We played trucks and trains. We sang songs and snuggled. We enjoyed play dates and days at the beach. We had lots of precious family time in Hawaii. But the perfectionist in me says it’s not enough. I could’ve, should’ve done more for him.
And now his brother will be here any minute, and I’m out of time, and there’s so much we haven’t done yet, and I’m not ready for this to be over, but I am ready, but I’m not, and I’m so torn…. And so I spin.