|From family pictures a few weeks ago, almost 32 weeks pregnant.|
I have handled the past 8 months or so in the most rational state available to me: near panic.
Yes, I'm grateful for another chance at a baby. Of course we're thrilled and befuddled that we managed to conceive again without IVF. And I have been, naturally, quietly freaking out.
I think everyone knows in the abstract that things can go awry with pregnancy. Working in the medical field, I've always been ever more acutely aware of this, and now, after our own experience with Sarah, I'm left to wonder, How do people make producing babies look so...easy?
We have had a lot of discussions with our really great perinatologist, who is the same doctor that first discovered Sarah's brain abnormalities. Neither he nor Sarah's neonatologist felt like we were any more likely to have a repeat of Sarah's condition than your average couple. That is reassuring. Each new milestone reached has been a relief, and at this point the baby still looks completely normal, so we have fingers crossed and prayers said that little Mister will make it here safe and sound.
So, panic about the baby's health aside, I have another, equal source of anxiety that keeps me up at night:
Can I love a BOY?
If the baby boy clothing selection at the store is any indication, we are in serious trouble.
Everything seems to be sports-themed or camoflauge.
Even worse, there is a disturbing lack of bows and headbands to mask bald spots or general homeliness.
Can I possibly love a bodily-functions obsessed, rough-and-tumble, nothing-you-can-do-if-he's-funny-looking boy like I love sweet, innocent little Mary? (Who is, by the way, back in diapers, after deciding 3 or 4 weeks into potty-training that she was going to fight me tooth and nail every time I mentioned going potty? And who recently announced, screwdriver in hand, that she wanted to kill her doll? Most disturbing moment of my parenting career, hands-down).
Well, she's not actually sweet and innocent ALL the time. But she really is that adorable:
|Don't worry. It isn't actually possible to kill a doll.|
Plus she kind of melts our hearts.
And while I'm opening up about pregnancy worries, there is another thorny issue about this one that I should bring up: THE NAME.
We have never disagreed on a baby name before. With both Mary and Sarah we both agreed on a name within 24 hours of finding out the gender. This time we're well over 4 months past and still have no idea how to come to any agreement. Flip a coin? Arm wrestle? (No good, we already know who would win). Paper rock scissors? Arbitration?
At the rate we're going, "Baby Boy" may end up on his birth certificate.
So here's to 5-ish remaining weeks of pregnancy anxiety.
Then bring on the new baby anxiety.