This baby is coming any day...
Am I ready?
With less than two weeks until my due date, I’m officially in nesting mode.
My last day of work was the end of last week. We celebrated by taking a rare night to ourselves to go to our favorite fancy restaurant, a mocktail for me and a few cocktails for my husband. We talked about the how much our life would be changing and how excited we were to see what this new little human will be like.
We also acknowledged that our life is about to (once again) be turned upside down.
In some ways, this pregnancy and preparing for a new addition to the family has been easier than the last time. I had a better sense of what was “normal” when it comes to being pregnant and what to expect as the months progressed. Even thinking about labor, I’ve now gone through the experience once and came out on the other side with a healthy, happy baby. I still remember the doctor saying, “It’s a boy!” as she handed my husband a pair of golden scissors to cut the umbilical cord. The strangest ribbon cutting ceremony I’ve ever attended.
However, I think the biggest reason that this pregnancy didn’t feel as monumental was because I simply didn’t have time to lay about and daydream about our coming child; I was too busy trying to prevent the existing toddler from starting a house fire or running into the street. Not surprisingly, he has held little empathy in his heart for my ever-growing belly and has demanded just as much of my energy and attention as ever. Just the other night he leapt onto me and exclaimed, “Mama, you are a jungle gym!” as I tried to tell him otherwise.
While exhausting, his precociousness has made this pregnancy pass in the blink of an eye. With my son, I remember counting each day, the weeks passing by ever so slowly. This time around, I can hardly believe that nearly nine months of my life have gone by and I’ve reached the final countdown.
Enter the nesting stage: I’m finding myself frantically preparing meals for the freezer, deep cleaning the bathroom, finally dropping off that box of items meant for donation. I got my hair cut, sorted through my clothes, unearthed the newborn clothes and toys that have been in storage for the last three years. While I may be “not working” right now, I find myself busier than ever.
Some of this busyness is necessary (after all, finding that bin of newborn clothes was pretty critical if I didn’t want to bring home a naked baby from the hospital). But if I’m being honest, part of it is also avoidance. If you’re a regular reader, you’ll know that I’m quite comfortable with a list of items I can attack and cross off one by one. I feel less at ease when I pause for a second to catch my breath. In those rare moments when I allow myself to sit down and rest, a less than comforting reality catches up to me: I have no idea what my life will look like in a week, a month, a year. That realization is terrifying enough that I pick myself up off the couch and launch into the next item on my list.
In theory, I know what to expect with a newborn. My husband and I navigated those early months with our son and we managed to survive. But at the same time, I remember it being so incredibly unpredictable, exhausting, and anxiety provoking. I remember feeling like I didn’t know what to do, how to help my son sleep, or how to take care of myself. Friends and family would ask, “How can I help? Do you need anything? What can I do?” I was so overwhelmed that I had no idea how to answer those questions. I was so consumed by the experience that I hardly recognized myself. And I remember thinking: Is it supposed to be this hard? Am I doing this right? Will we all be okay?
Reflecting on my experience three years later, I know now that I struggled with mild postpartum depression and not-so-mild postpartum anxiety. The experience was harder than I ever could’ve imagined, while at the same time so full of love that being separated from my baby would send me into a panic attack. I needed sleep. I needed my son. In choosing my son again and again and again, my mental health suffered. It felt like an impossible choice, and I can’t help but wonder if this time around, I’ll lose myself again.
One thing I’ve learned in my short, three-year stint as a parent is that so much is out of my control. There are things my husband and I can do to set our family up for success, and at the same time all our best-laid plans can (and often do) go up in a glorious blaze. The things that I hope for and want to happen may come to fruition, but they also might not, or they might unfold in a totally unexpected way. It’s not always easy; I’m someone inclined to control every little piece of a situation that I can. But I’ve learned that there can be a lot of peace in surrendering. As life overwhelms me and fatigue sets in, it’s okay to admit to myself that I don’t have a good grasp on things, that I’m not sure what to do, and that I need help. Whether it feels like it or not, there are often people standing right there waiting to help cook a meal, hold a crying baby, or offer me a hug. Sometimes it’s just surrendering my own attempts to do it all that gives others space to step in and do life alongside me.
I know logically that we’re entering this season of life better equipped to handle the coming chaos. It is also true that I’m scared for the moments of doubt and uncertainty that I know will be part of this experience. As I embark on this next chapter of my life, I’m trying to be at peace with the fact that I’m slightly terrified and very much unable to predict the future. I’m also trying to embrace the idea that come what may, our little family will stretch and grow and morph to fit the presence of its newest member. And that’s sure to come with some pains that will be uncomfortable and messy, from sleepless nights to diaper blowouts to toddler tantrums.
My hope is that I’ll get myself to open up a bit and let people be part of my village. And know that if I’m brave enough to ask for it, help is just a phone call away.
Small victories 🏅
Making it through nine months of pregnancy is no easy feat! Fun fact: In 2019 they found that pregnancy requires the same amount of energy as running an ultramarathon. Here’s to (almost) reaching the finish line.
Hot mess recs 🔥
‘Tis the season for cookies and sweets! I just made this recipe for monster cookies (not sure if they’re a midwest staple or consumed more broadly) and they did not disappoint. If you want to make them festive, opt for the green and red M&Ms.
Totally unrelated, Jess’s latest episode for The Journal podcast is a fun one! It’s a look at how TikTok has got its fingerprints all over the book industry these days. She talks to a bookstore owner, an author, and a publishing executive about the myriad ways that #booktok is making a difference in the book world, especially in romance and fantasy; driving sales and shifts in strategy, and giving more agency to readers. It’s an episode Jess is particularly proud of, because she and her team did almost all the reporting on it and it came out of her love for reading both faerie smut and high fantasy. Give it a listen – and give the show five stars while you’re at it! She’ll be forever grateful.
For those who partake in Christmas, this will be the last Messay before the big day. Be sure to soak up time with family, friends, other loved ones, or even just some peaceful solitude. With the mad dash that the holidays bring, it’s so important that we find time to slow down and rest 🎄
Send us a note 💌
Life is wild and throws us curve balls constantly. What sort of experiences are you navigating during this time of life? We want to hear about it, and if you’re open to sharing more broadly we’d love to feature you as a guest writer. Reach out to us at goshdarnmess@gmail.com.
Happy holidays!
Sam