Still not the best night's sleep last night but only this time I think because B woke up crying - her sheets were soaked through. Darn that cranberry juice/water combo I let her drink at 5 PM. Sigh.
I've got Nicki's two youngest boys here this morning - Bubba and Zachary - to play with Bean. They're 2 1/2 and almost 4. No sweat so far, in fact it's actually NICE. I have a little thing for both these boys, anyway. Bean is so nicely smack dab in the middle of the two of them, they're like little stairsteps. Sweet!
I have something on my mind. Something sorta big. Actually it's so big that it was one of the reasons I didn't think I'd have another child.
Here goes.
Alex, and I know ALL Mom's think this of their kids, so you won't be surprised to hear it, I know, is a fantastically special child. It is not just me who sees it, though. Most people she relates to say this to me. And I guess I get worried that a second baby won't be like that. I know he/she will be special to ME. Of course! But maybe not to the rest of the world. And maybe, like I felt for portions of my childhood, baby #2 will feel like LESS than his/her older sister. And that thought literally makes me cry just to type it. It's a lot to compensate for, for a parent, when the outside world responds more positively to one sibling than the other for whatever reason, and my parents didn't do it well. What if I can't?
Also I look at how beautiful and amazing and easy life has been for me... All my life. I've had a few bad things happen, sure, but absolutely no tragedies I've had to deal with. No hardships that have really tried me or tested me.
To be honest, it feels as if I'm due. As if God may use this new baby as an opportunity to draw me closer to Him through a very difficult situation I can't handle on my own, as I try to do most things.
It is a scary thing for me. To think my child may be sick, or disabled. Deformed. (I know that's not politically correct, but I can't think of another way to convey the REAL truth of what I'm worried about.) That this child may suffer, because I haven't suffered enough. And because I irresponsibly got pregnant at this age.
I know. You all think I'm nutty.
I knew you would.
But I'm disclosing my true guts here and that is a HUGE piece of what is inside me, spinning about, a tangled mass of fear, sadness among the joy and surprise and hope.
I HAVE been praying. For this baby. For Alex. For all of us. Heaven knows with all the time I spend awake at night there's time for prayer, shopping lists and solving the world's problems. But mostly I just think about the baby. And wonder. What is to come?
I went to the post office yesterday to mail a few packages. I had Bean with me, and getting her and the packages into the post office was a complete hairball. I just wanted to SCREAM at everyone around me. And Bean. And I WAS short with her, too.
I realized that there's no way I'd ever have even considered that trip with two kids. Not until they're like 3 and 7 years old. And it makes me feel so trapped. I am just so over-the-top independent and ... driven? To get stuff done and get it all done well, and quickly and move on to the next thing. Children make that impossible. I need to develop patience and an appreciation for the PROCESS of doing things, because right now I'm so focused on THE RESULT that anything or anyone who gets in my way tends to bear the brunt of my stubborn resentment and frustration.
Sigh.
Many, many times have I thought, while managing a project or task with Bean, while getting something done, completing a thought, with constant interruption, that I could NEVER be happy with more responsibility than I already have with one child and a husband who's gone 12 hours a day.
Yet I am happy. I will manage. Maybe I'll learn something.
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