I have a habit of doing what I think far too many of us do these days. I bury things. When I have things come up in my life that I wish weren’t there, or feel things I wish I weren’t feeling, it’s my instinct to just push them away. Pretend they’re not there. Because…maybe if I just ignore them, they will go away. And even though we all know that is the worst thing to do, we’ve all done it at some point. Probably more than we admit.
Well, I’m not going to do that now. I’m putting it out there, because I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. And I’m most definitely not the only one burying something.
My belly is round. So round. And getting rounder each day. I feel my second baby move inside me – he or she kicks, stretches, and loves to poke into this one spot on the right side of my ribs. “Bitty”, as we call him or her, loves to have a dance party as I try to go to sleep. I know these little things about him or her, and those little things I absolutely love.
But at the same time, I’m scared.
Yup. I said it.
Yes, pregnancy is an incredible blessing, and I am eternally thankful for the life growing inside of me. But I’m going to put it out there and say what I think many expecting moms are feeling, yet can’t bring themselves to say to others.
I. Am. Terrified.
I’m scared of being able to love another child as much as I love my son Emmett.
Of having the energy to be a mom to two.
Of losing my special relationship with my first.
Of being “good enough” to be a mom to two, while running my own business, being a wife, and saving time to just be me.
I know I will love this baby. I already do love this baby. But the unknown…the unknown is scary.
Emmett helping us with Bitty’s room. The little guy just loves to help right now.
As I sit and write this, and the words escape my head and move themselves onto the screen in front of me, I already feel myself healing, and feeling calmer about the future. I suppose that’s the bigger lesson here, right? Keeping things in, burying them, pretending they don’t exist really makes things 100x harder. I’ve had these feelings for months, and now, after just writing for a bit, I find myself breathing a little easier. This big ‘ol belly of mine feels a little bit lighter.
Last week, I took Emmett out for a special “Mama-Emmett” day. We went to Chick-Fil-A, the indoor playground, and even checked out a couple of preschools. (HOW is my child old enough for preschool already??) It was the perfect day. Bedtime came, and over the monitor, out of nowhere, Emmett said, “Mama, thank you for taking me to the playground today and to preschools.” I teared up instantly, and then it hit me…
There’s no such thing as the perfect person.
There’s no such thing as the perfect parent.
But there is such thing as the perfect parent for your child.
In that moment, I knew. He’s my child for a reason. I am the perfect parent for him. No one could possibly know him or love him like my husband and I do. We are the best thing for him. We were made for each other.
And it’s time I had faith that we will be the same for Bitty. It’s time I trust our journey as a family.Our day together – waiting in the car for preschool to open and climbing at the indoor playground.
The weeks are passing quickly. And before we know it, he or she will be here. I have said for the past months that “I know it will all be wonderful. I know it will all be great.” But I said it with a sense of hesitation inside. Spilling these words, admitting my feelings, now I can honestly say I know it will be the most incredible thing. It’s amazing how making myself a little bit vulnerable and admitting to my fear has made it dissipate already.
What’s your “thing”? What are you burying? What are you afraid to admit, even to yourself?
My world, real & unfiltered. Toys all over. Emmett in mismatched socks watching morning cartoons. And perfect even in its chaos.
Let’s get honest. Because if you can’t admit to a struggle, you won’t be able to claim the success of overcoming it.
And I leave you with this… because when E takes my phone and wants to do some selfies, this is what I see later on my phone. I dare you not to smile at that face
And because sometimes music says it better than anything…
You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve
And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground
Dig them up; let’s finish what we’ve started
Dig them up, so nothing’s left untouched