I’ve written a lot about how this second pregnancy, this new child who will soon be in our lives, is scaring the crap out of me.
I talked about how I worry that Monkey won’t like his little brother. I’ve ranted on about OhMyGod how am I going to look after TWO little people. I’ve expressed my fear of labor.
Don’t get me wrong. I love, love, love this baby. He has been planned and wanted and loved for so long. I cannot wait to hold him in my arms. I cannot wait for my son to be an older brother. I want to say proudly that I’m a mother of two.
So as I pondered how I can get over the trepidation, the anxiety and the crippling self-doubt, I remind myself that I’ve done this before.
I survived a rather traumatizing, out-of-my-hands labor.
I successfully breastfed my son for 18 months.
We managed to transition him to his own bed and room at the same time.
Monkey is healthy, happy and thriving.
So I got this. I can do this.
I have a very good (but flexible) birth plan (give birth, period).
I have an excellent obstetrician whose years of experience is more than my years of living on this earth, who has prepared extensively for the possibility of complications (severe postpartum bleeding due to a lax uterus and a very large baby the first time round – sorry, TMI).
I have a husband who’s had 2+ years of fatherhood under his belt, who I know will support me, who will have my back and who will stand in for me when my toddler needs a parent’s attention.
I have family support close at hand (hi Sis and mother-in-law!).
I know how to breastfeed (let’s hope Scrumplet does too).
I know how to change diapers, wipe a bum, bathe a delicate newborn and just the right way to swaddle him tight (the first time round, I was clueless).
I know I can cope with less sleep.
I know now that my house will not be spotless and that’d be okay.
I know I can definitely squeeze in a hot shower and change into clean clothes every day.
I have come to realize that accepting help is not a weakness, and is in fact, very smart.
I know I have this blog and you, my friends, who I’ve come to know and love, and you’re rooting for me.
So yeah, I’ve got this.
Any last-minute words of advice? Anyone want to fly to Malaysia and hold the baby while I go pee?