Today, Peanut is just a month from being DUE. Not just "ready" to come out... DUE. I hope she comes a little bit early, though. Her daddy and I are anxious to see her and hold her.
For a long time now, I've put off really considering how much of my time will be taken up by taking care of a baby. It's obvious that she'll take up most of my time and that will mean most of OUR time... but I've always thought that somehow, we'll be able to balance it and not feel crazed.
The whatifs are setting in, though. What if she has colic? What if she doesn't like to sleep at night? What if she gets a rash that doesn't want to go away and it keeps her up ALL the time? What if I get PPD? What if family members are so busy that they aren't able to come over and give us much of a break? What if she's too heat sensitive to take her outside much? What if I don't get the hang of cloth diapering?
Ya know. That sort of thing.
That's all in one corner of my brain. In the other corner, the one that I listen to MOST, there's a voice that says this is all going to be fine and we're going to find things to be so much easier than we think. Thank the gods for THAT voice. That voice tells me that I'll have time for the boy because I will. It says we'll figure out a balance because we're so close that it's inevitable. It says Izzy will fit in with us because she's a part of us.
I'm sleepy. I have 12 more days of work and then I'm taking off to rest up before Izzy makes her appearance. Hopefully, I actually find time to really REST. I have such problems there. I can't handle sitting around when there are things that I could be doing. The house will end up being ridiculously clean, I think. We're talking window washing, ceiling dusting and baseboard scrubbing.