Normalcy and a sweating problem

Putting off the coming-terms-with and avoiding the translation of my current feelings has been easy. Between finishing a playroom in the basement (yes, I helped hang drywall at 8+ mos. pregnant), renovating the master bath, keeping up with doctor's appointments and the regular everyday-ness of raising a little boy, I've managed to keep myself rather busy.  

My fleeting moments of leftover brainpower have been filled with thoughts of paint colors, furniture arrangements, crib bedding, big boy beds, and new baby must-haves.  Not so much focused on trying to decipher how I feel about everything.  Everything being...how I feel about W turning two.  How I feel about bringing another life into the world.  How I feel about lying on an operating table to welcome this new life.  How I feel about my changing body.  How I feel about my relationship with D.  How I feel about me.  And not to mention how I feel about another trip to Lowe's and/or Home Depot or the daily sweat marks I get in my shirts(!).

There's certainly been a lot of ignored feelings.  

A couple of nights ago we made a (-nother) trip to Lowe's.  On the way out, D lugged our purchase while I lugged W to the car.  And by lugged, I mean slowly carried a 28 pounder atop my hugely pregnant mid-section and audibly heaved as I lifted him into his car seat. Then the feeling hit me:  soon I won't be able to lift him in and out of the car so "easily."  This mindless, menial task will soon be different.  That brief moment I have to lift him up, give him a hug, put him in his buckles and ask for a kiss is going to change.
 
I quickly ignored this feeling, shut W's door and pulled myself together.  Up until then, I had avoided these emotions like the plague.  I had no interest in mourning the change about to happen to child #1 --or to me -- but things were starting to set in.

Cue this morning.

As expected, bathroom breaks, throwing off covers and attempting to get comfortable during the night means not the best sleep.  So this morning I took to reading some blogs.  A friend of mine with an almost two-year-old boy and a little girl on the way (sound familiar?) is a rather wise woman.  She is well-spoken, thorough, and always manages to put into words some of those jumbly feelings I have swirling in my head.  Her post this morning was no different.  Speaking of her little boy, she said:

Up until now, every change has been so exciting, there was no space in my heart for sadness at the passage of time...However, it is suddenly becoming more real to me that he won't always want to climb up into my lap for a snuggle or to read a book; he'll understand at some point that he's too big to fit there comfortably. He won't always want to give me kisses in public; he'll understand his friends are watching.  

Now cue my weepy self.

The continuous milestones W achieves make me feel so proud, like I'd done them myself.  Yet I always seemed to feel more pride and anticipation for what's next rather than sadness.  Now, our family is doing the same.  In just more than a week, we will turn a new leaf in our little book of life.  W will turn into a big brother.  We will go from three to four.  And life will go on.  However, my usual anticipation just hasn't caught up.  Although I am thrilled, elated, excited, etc., when I am truly honest with myself, I am scared half to death to see what is on this next page.  It is becoming more real to me that although W might want to do all of the things we did before, he may not be able to.  Nor will I.  I feel sad.  I feel unprepared.  I feel nostalgic.  I feel like I want to dig my heels in the ground.

Needless to say, these feelings, coupled with the lack of sleep and raging hormones (the damn same ones responsible for the sweating) caused my eyes to overflow.  I was like a little kid.  Trying to catch my breath.  Trying not to be heard.  But just trying to make sense of it all.

The normalcy I finally got used to will not be normal anymore.  Being at the mercy of a newborn's schedule seems doable, but am I really going to be able to create a new normal and those special, unique things I do with my child(ren) just because?  All the progress, trust and momentum W and I have created in the last two years is sort of going to come to a screeching halt.  Am I really going to be able to pick it up again?  And will W still even like me then?

Perhaps I am panicked.  Or maybe just irrational.  Regardless, I'm sweating again.  

Thank you, Becca, for your words of wisdom:

Onward and upward, I say! Each tiny progression is wondrous and exciting--and I need to let myself be caught up in the moment...as often as I can manage it.

Each tiny progression is wondrous and exciting.  Genius!

Oddly, I know I can do this.  I will do it.  On on hand, I kind of have to; but I want to, as well.  And this is what life is about -- progression -- right?  Despite my nervousness, I hope to be pleasantly surprised at my own development as I step from one page to the next.  Sweaty and all, I want to be caught up in the moment and take the new "normal" as it comes.  Kissing W every time I can put him in his car seat.  And baby girl, too.