I’ll be 35 weeks pregnant tomorrow. It’s very easy for me to look at the next four months and feel extremely overwhelmed. I know I’ll have to journey through these last weeks of being pregnant and I’m tired. And then there’s the great mental debate: When will this baby come? Will the baby have IVA? How will labor and delivery go?
Then there’s a whole new set of emotions with a new baby and three children and hormones and a post-baby body and acclimating to a new rhythm and being exhausted. When I consider all of that as a whole, I feel like I’m slowly sinking in a quicksand that might kill me this time.
(Being pregnant after the first time is great because you have some idea of what’s coming and that it does eventually go away. Being pregnant after the first time is horrible because you know what’s coming.)
When I look at the next four months, I can easily dread the whole time. It can seem that not one good thing will come out of it except the baby and life can look a little grim, to be honest.
Last week I realized a truth that I keep forgetting. I only have to do today.