Me: "Who has the best seat in the house, me or daddy?"

Adam: "Well, Daddy's is nice, but yours is best. Your's is squishier."

Friday, July 16, 2010

Freak out

I freaked out last night.
It was about midnight or so.
The baby has dropped, a sign of approaching birth, (though it might be weeks still) and I don't even have the cradle out of the rafters.
Yesterday I started making a list:
plastic sheets for the birth tub
batteries for the camera
wash blankets and baby clothes
buy juice
make food for the midwives
Last night in my freak out, I made a different list:
I don't know what to name the baby
What if the baby is born with problems?
What if I go into labor and the house it still torn up?
Wait, we're about to have a baby here!
I just barely wrapped my head around the reality of this baby, alive. Now I realize that after we come out of the other end of this tunnel of uncertainty, another little being will have come out it's own tunnel. And, by the way, it will be staying.
I am not ready.
My heart is not ready. In some ways I feel like I just found out I was pregnant a month ago. That isn't much time to prepare.
And so I have begun fixating. New list:
finish boy's room
fold laundry
freeze meals
pack kid's overnight bags
wipe door jams
hang shelf
clean out closet
organize paper pile...
It all bubbled to the surface in hormone-filled pregnant tears last night. As Guy comforted me I came to a place of understanding. I realized that I want to be a perfect mom for this baby, but I certainly won't be, so my crazy brain has decided that if I can make everything around me look perfect, perhaps that will compensate somehow.

I don't want this baby to ever hear me yell (hello, it hears me yell all the time, right now). I don't want to miss any opportunity to help it to grow and develop emotionally into a healthy person. I want to be kind and sweet and healthy and energetic. I don't want to be the old mom.
I want to be patient.
I want to be perfect.
I'm not. And I won't be any time soon.
In a still moment between waves of ranting and tears, I asked Guy to give me a blessing. A blessing is like a special prayer that is said by someone who holds the priesthood on behalf of another person. To people in our faith it is very sacred. By the light of day, freak out past, I remember only bits and snatches of the words that were spoken to me.
Last list:
Heavenly Father loves us
I can focus on this little being as I partner with God in bringing it here
As I focus, the rest will become "just things to get done"


Rebekah said...

I understand the stress, but I want you to know that you are loved and I will be over soon to help as much as I can.

Elizabeth said...

Lovely comfort... so much love surrounds this baby!