I know I've been a bit absent from the blog lately. And when I say "a bit," y'all know that I haven't posted a word in two weeks. I apologize. Here's what happened:
I hit the 33-week mark in my pregnancy, and I freaked.
Max and Maggie were born at 33 weeks {at least according to my own personal reckoning}, so when I reached that point again, it hit me like a baseball bat in the face that newbaby is coming. Newbaby could, in fact, come at any time. My OBs think that I went into pre-term labor last time because I was having twins, and we don't have a family history of early labor, but it doesn't change the fact that this baby is coming
soon. And that was a startling revelation to me.
I'm conflicted. On the one hand I feel like there's too much to get done in this last month. We don't even have a crib yet, for crying out loud. {A third crib, I mean.} Not to mention we're lacking in the departments of second rocking chairs, newborn diapers, nurseries that are finished, hospital bags that are packed, and one-year-olds who can walk.
On the other hand, I want to meet newbaby so bad I can hardly stand it. I'm dying to smell that little head and wonder at how tiny he or she is. I'm ready to see a new face, and to name that face -- the face that's going to be the fifth member of our family. I imagine the moment when I'll get to hold newbaby for the first time, and how magically wonderful it will be, and then my mind fast-forwards to the time when Christian goes back to work and I spend my first day at home with
three babies. And how on earth am I going to manage it?? Thinking about going through the bone-dead-tired, my-body-is-unrecognizable, I-wish-I-had-four-more-hands period of survival again is scary.
So in both halves of my mind, I feel stressed. Stressed because I don't know how I'm going to make it another month being so pregnant, trying to take care of twins AND getting prepared for newbaby, and stressed because my life is going to go crazy when my pregnancy is over. Maybe you can see why I've taken an unscheduled break from blogging?
I don't know if it's the stress, or because I always feel at least a little bit tired, or because of something hormone-related, but I've been getting more frustrated lately. I keep losing my patience with the two sweetest babies God put on the earth, finding myself close to yelling at them and then crying because I feel guilty. {And then crying more after seeing their worried little faces.} I don't like yelling, I don't like losing control of my temper, and I certainly don't like lashing out at children who have such tender feelings. Everything just seems so much harder than it did a month ago.
My friend Hannah suggested today that it's just the stage my babes are in. They're everywhere and into everything, learning to communicate but still not understanding a lot. There's a lot of saying patient "no, don't do that"s over and over as they learn their boundaries and what's acceptable. No, don't spit out your food. No, don't drop it on the floor or rub it in your hair. No, don't take toys away from your sister. Don't sit on her. Don't poke her in the eye. No, don't put Mama's phone in your mouth. No, don't pull Mama's hair. No biting. No hitting. No throwing things in the fireplace.
It gets taxing. I'm not the mother I want to be yet. I can tell because when Maggie comes to me and wants to read all the books we own for the third or fourth time in one day, I groan and pass her off to Christian.
I'm trying to have more faith, to remind myself that newbaby is part of God's plan for our family. That everything will be okay and that there will be beauty in our lives that I can't imagine yet. I want to be the positive, strong person that everyone else can rely on; more than that, I know that soon I'll need to be that person.
I don't want this post to come off as just
so serious, like I'm in some kind of dire situation. I'm very happy in my life. {I had a good time laughing at myself earlier this week when I went to my {now weekly} OB appointment with Max and Maggie and forgot the stroller at home -- I got a lot of looks carrying them on either side of my massive belly.} I just find myself, as I did at thirteen in my many diaries, feeling the need to express my most melodramatic emotions.
Thank you for indulging me.
*image by Chelsea Fulbright via Flickr