I’m ready.
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| Eight months pregnant - almost GO time! |
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.
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| 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.
