newmom kissing baby

At the moment I’m 24 or 25 weeks pregnant – I’ve totally lost track of this pregnancy so I don’t really even know anymore – and I’m one helluva grumpy pregnant lady right now, I’ll be the first to admit it. There are a few reasons for this but I think I have realised what is ultimately underlying all these feelings I’m having.

Baby J is 13 months old. I still consider myself a new mom. Yet here I am, 3.5 months away from doing it all over again. Call me crazy (and you can, because I now do) but I chose to have a 16-month age gap between my two kidlets because in a rare moment of farsightedness I could see how great it would be for my kids to grow up so close together in age.

But now I’m stuck dealing with the reality of having another baby. A baby!

Photo: Sofia Dadourian

Do you even remember having a baby? Those little things that are as light as a feather and look up at you with big eyes, those teensy beings that yawn with their whole face and make weird noises when feeding, those tiny people that don’t really do anything besides feed and poop and feed and poop and feed and…poop.

I remember, because it wasn’t all that long ago that Baby J was one of those. Last year, in fact.

I didn’t have an easy time in the beginning with Baby J. He wasn’t easy but it wasn’t entirely his fault. I struggled with myself in the beginning, my new role as mother and the responsibility that came with it. I am still coming to terms with “losing” the life I left behind when I chose to become a parent – not that I regret my decision for a second, I’m just going through a period of major adjustment, still.

Now that I’m starting to think about things like hospital bags, newborn diapers, moses baskets, breastmilk bags, nurture nests – the list seems endless – the reality is beginning to hit home. One day soon I will be back on the three-hourly clock, come rain or shine I will be a milk truck on demand. I will spend a few months wandering around in a daze, my pyjamas (because who has time to get changed into clothes – and what’s the point anyway) spotted with poo, spit, vomit or all of the above, either holding, carrying or rocking the little person to sleep.

And let’s not forget about the anxiety involved in raising a child.

It’s quite frightening, to be honest, and I can’t even have a (proper) glass of wine to deal with it.

Yet, thankfully, there is a part of me that is excited. No matter all the shit they bring with them (literal and figurative) it still amazes me that we are capable of making tiny little humans, without any kind of qualifications or skills. I mean, at the moment I struggle to make 2-minute noodles without burning the house down. Yet, here we are, me and the Beard, all set to unleash another one of our creations onto this world.

And the world will never be the same again 🙂

father holding baby

Featured image: Sofia Dadourian

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