The Anxious Mom-to-Be

I don’t mind telling everyone that I was a very happy, but very freaked out expectant mother during my first pregnancy.  I always knew I wanted kids, and so did Jim, so having a baby was a shared dream for both.  But somehow in my dreams, I always pictured “kids” – not babies – around 7 years old and up.  As the youngest of 7 with lots of nieces and nephews in other cities, I had not had a lot of babies in my life.  So, as my belly grew in that first pregnancy, so did my anxiety……to the point where I only attended the first 4 hours of a 12 hour childbirthing course before I made Jim take us home, couldn’t read any “what to expect” or “your pregnancy” books after week 30, and basically tried all within my power to not think of life beyond having the baby because it was too overwhelming.

Well, I’m now around the same point in my third pregnancy….and guess what?  Anxiety is back.

I haven’t had many … really any … moments up until now where the thought of a third child has sent me to the panic room.  Having a third was a decision Jim and I made together, because we thought it was the right number for our family and that we had enough of everything to go around … love, time, attention, and in the grand scheme of things, money (though college funds will have to be a bit lighter for sure than with only two).  However, as my body gets more tired, my business and my goals for it get bigger, and my belly gets larger, my unwavering optimism about turning our family of four into a family of five starts to….well….waver.

Today was the first day when I thought of the upcoming addition to the family with a bit of fear.  The first wave happened just after breakfast, which really in our house shouldn’t be called breakfast as much as it is the first “graze-a-thon” of the day.  Both boys are mobile enough now that we have them eat at either a small child-sized table in the kitchen or at the island counter – either of which they have free ability to move in / out of at will.  So, breakfast tends to be an exercise of running into the kitchen, grabbing a bite, going into the living room, playing for a minute, then repeating the loop over and over until they are either too engrossed in playing/full enough not to care for the food or Mommy says it’s time to get dressed for the day.  (Getting dressed, by the way, brings an entirely different scene of chaos to the morning.)

The scene this morning was pretty much like any morning:  toys strewn pretty much everywhere, various plates/bowls/cups all half-filled with various food and drink covering much of the counter space, and the items used to prepare breakfast covering the rest of the counters.  This morning brought the added knowledge that I would need to give my 3 yr old a breathing treatment with the nebulizer for his bronchitis soon, and the worry that the yellow crusted eyes of my 19 month old was worse than the normal first-thing-in-the-morning sleep and that he’d actually caught the pink eye my 3 yr old (yes, the same one with bronchitis) had come down with 5 days before.

The combination of all of this made me wonder:  “how in the world are we going to manage with three little ones?”

And unfortunately, I haven’t been able to shake that thought.  Its been a constant companion today, through all our normal weekend errands as well as our not-so-usual events:  through the visit to the urgent care clinic with my 19 month old that confirmed he’d contracted pink eye, through the unexpected and expensive fix to my car that was required 2 years before it should have been needed.

Were we crazy to think we had enough of everything to go around for 3 kids?

I believe the real answer to this question is no…we weren’t crazy.  And although days like today have me calling into question this decision, they are a blip in the radar screen relative to the more normal times when I feel like a third child – while certainly presenting challenges, especially in those early months – will be a huge blessing to our family.

And when days like this, and thoughts like this, happen….I just need to be prepared with my reinforcing thoughts of all the reasons why we “went for the third”: so our children would live with the wonderful kind of chaos that comes with multiple siblings and so Jim and I would have another baby/kid/teen/adult to love with the most powerful love that could ever exist.

And if that doesn’t work, I can also remind myself that I am the youngest of seven.  When you ask my mom today how she did it, she says she honestly can’t remember, but that now (at 73 yrs) she is incredibly happy that she did.  Which I take to mean that the first few, hardest years will be a blur, but over time the joys will far outweigh the work, so that when I’m her age and can look back at all that’s behind me, I’ll be so thankful that we made this choice.

And if those two fail, I’ll just have to practice my deep breathing.  It will come in handy in about 10 weeks, anyway.