Torn

I remember feeling torn during the end of my last pregnancy.  Wishing one minute that she would hurry up and arrive and the next that she would sit tight until I got that one last project done.  It was never a terribly dramatic roller coaster, just passing whims.  The only exception to this was the last couple weeks, when I just wanted them to TAKE HER ALREADY DAMMIT.  But that was because I was tired and hurting.  Well duh. 

This time is different.  The knowledge that we'll have this experience with Little Man's heart right after he's born is a gift -- a blessing that we can plan for and get the absolute best medical care in the country for him.  But it's also a curse.  The flip is that we spend the last half of this pregnancy worrying. 

The worry comes in many forms for me.  I worry about how to navigate parenting Olivia well when he's critical, when he's more stable, and finally when he's returned home and just plain special.  I worry about his heart.  How will it look when they finally get in there?  Will there be surprises?  I worry about surgery and death.  I worry about "complications" and pain and even death.  I worry about my own physical recovery from surgery and healing properly when all I want to do is stand next to his bedside whispering to him.  I worry about breast feeding and failing at it again, this time with higher stakes.  I worry about money and the total lack of it for bills and Christmas.  I worry about juggling a loving and caring family and their expectations for how to help in this time of crisis.  I worry about bonding with him through all this fear. 

And, even with all of this on my mind every moment of the day, I wish he were here already.  This holding pattern is a challenge.  To emotionally stay in the "what if" zone and only be able to prepare for what you think might happen, all the time knowing that it may completely change, is HARD.  I'm getting fatigued.  We're drawing near to the end of our task lists and starting to feel honestly prepared for his arrival.  But, that leaves us with question: what to do now?

Waiting is so damn hard.

Thankfully, we had a little distraction this weekend with a trip to the beach (the last for the season) to see GrandDad.  Olivia has been Skyping with him, which is nice to see.  I always worry that they don't have enough time to spend together, so this trip is important.  And then...not a whole lot to do except sleep when we can, tie up loose ends, and get those last couple of projects done.  A little more nesting and lot more soaking up Olivia and then...8 weeks from now...our world finally changes again.

FINALLY.