As my pregnancy draws to an end I am in a state of flux; I can’t wait to meet this little man whom I’ve grown for the past nine months – to hold him, to feed him, to love him totally and utterly, but at the same time I’m scared and a little sad.
I’m scared that I won’t have enough love to go round – how can my heart fit anymore love inside when it is filled so completely with Busby and Nick?
I’m scared that I won’t be able to manage with two children by myself in, what is still, a relatively unknown place to me.
I’m scared that my PND will rear its ugly head.
I’m scared that Busby will feel neglected or rejected; she’s had all of our attention for two and a half years now – it will be very difficult for her to adjust.
I’m sad that I won’t be pregnant anymore. I may grumble and moan about how uncomfortable I am…
How I feel like a whale.
How I can’t sleep for more than two hours without a pee.
How I long to be back in clothes that don’t have an inbuilt piece of elastic or jersey in them…!
But I do love being pregnant; I love feeling this little life kicking inside of me.
And although this pregnancy has been a lot more difficult than Busby’s in some respects (pregnancy hangover – yuck!), I have definitely enjoyed it more because I have appreciated what it is to be pregnant: What a blessing it is to grow a life inside you.
I have appreciated it more because I know that it will come to an end… and that I will miss it desperately.
So while half of me is wishing it would all be over; longing to hold this gorgeous bundle of baby in my arms for the first time. The other half of me is yearning for one more kick, one more Midwife appointment to hear his little heartbeat, one more night of pregnancy.