My Angel

I was told at my midwife appointment last Wednesday that if I haven't gone into labor on my own by the following Wednesday they will strip my membranes. Sounds like fun stuff. Given that warning, we've been trying to kick start labor ourselves the last few days. I've eaten more than my share of Thai curry, Mexican, and egglpant. We've walked. I've drunk raspberry leaf tea. And still nothing so far. Yet, we know that it will be relatively soon and I think Brendan knows, too, though we haven't been real specific with him.

It seems like ever since that appointment, Brendan has been on a crusade to be as cute as possible. Sadly, I can't even remember half the funny, wise, and profound things that have slipped off his tongue. But there have been several things.

Yesterday, as we were driving home from his friend Lyle's birthday party, Brendan says from the backseat, "It's wonderful to relax in the sun with a lollipop."

This morning in the kitchen he asked me if Mao, our orange tabby cat was a girl. Of course, he knows that Mao is a boy cat, but said he wished Mao were a girl because as he put it, "Mommy, you need a girl you can talk to and we're all boys." It was all I could do not to cry. I've never said anything to him about that, but it was so sensitive and perceptive of him. I have been feeling a very strong need for someone I can talk to about something specific, and obviously a baby daughter would not be what I need at all, but strange that he chose that turn of phrase.

I'm sure he's feeling some anxiety on part of me and Scott and knows something is going to happen soon. He has told us he loves us repeatedly (and happily), but has also asked us if we love him, which gives me pause. Still, he seems pretty happy and has been very well-behaved lately, aside from refusing to apologize to his dad for throwing something at him when he was angry one night. That aside, he has been behaving very well and has just been so easy the last week or so.

It has been enough to make me think it might not be so hard. I imagine I'm kidding myself. I remember how hard it was with just a single newborn. Mostly because I felt so isolated and jealous of my husband for getting to go out into the real world. I remember how much I hated my body for not doing what I wanted it to do...for not producing the milk needed to sustain my baby...for not shedding the weight I put on while pregnant. I imagine that feeling of jealousy will be exacerbated this time and my depression deeper, though I hope not. I'm afraid of not having any time to exercise or the wherewithal to prepare healthy foods for myself and family. I know what grand ambitions I had last time and they all fell through as I fell into a spiral of hopelessness. This time I have no such grand plans. I just want to survive and thrive.

I hope I can just focus on my new baby boy and his darling big brother and get through.