It seems like there have been points in my life where actions and consequences and turning points and decisions feel especially meaningful and especially burdensome. There have also been times in my life where I probably should have considered my actions a little more seriously, and some of the choices I've made have really effected me, long term.
I'm feeling like the choice we made to have a second child has been hitting me like a ton of bricks, and every day we inch closer to the finish line (or, start line, depending on how you look at it!), I feel this weight coming down on me harder and harder. Coincidentally (or, maybe it's natures way of getting us to see the seriousness of what we are about to embark on), as my literal weight increases, so does the weight I feel on my shoulders. As I toss and turn to get comfortable at night, I realize it's not my body which is keeping me up, but my mind.
This should have been so obvious. And, by this, I mean, the significance of the decision to have a second child. I mean, we already have one, so we have a pretty good idea of what we're getting into. Instead, I feel it a hundred times more than I felt the first time. When we were planning for an expecting Eleanor, it was fun and exciting and new, and there was an idea that she'd just fit right into our family, and we'd roll with the punches together. And she has, and we do. But having a second? It's terrifying. It's making me envision being stretched thinner than I've ever been before, not only emotionally, but physically, spiritually, financially, relationally. I stay awake at night and wonder if we've bitten off more than we can chew. I wonder how my husband will adapt to what's certain to be a high stress couple of years. I wonder how Ellie will adapt. I wonder how I will possibly stay afloat, how I will care for two, how I will manage a home, how we can afford this, how we can maintain our marriage, friendships which are already so thin to begin with. Heck, I wonder how I'll even manage to get grocery shopping done.
And all that's assuming we're having a healthy baby, normal delivery, easy breastfeeding. Basically, all that is assuming that we're having a child identical to his/her big sister's experience and personality - which we all know is not likely to happen.
Honestly? I feel like a teenager who was blindsided that her decision to become sexually active has resulted in a pregnancy. And the worst part about that is this was a planned pregnancy, a mutually agreed upon decision of what was (is) best for our family.
So here I am. 17 1/2 weeks left and I'm just so overwhelmed.
I'm hoping this will all magically go away when this child is placed in my arms, but somehow, I have a feeling that there is much more reflection to come...