I’m feeling a little guilty and the question of, “What about the second child?” Has permeated my mind for last few weeks, yet sadly I’ve done little to rectify my guilt.
When I was pregnant with Milly I was the most prepared women you had ever seen. While, I’ll admit the many showers thrown by family and friends got me ahead of the game there were plenty of actions on my part which left me as equipped for our new arrival as possible.
I was enrolled in a birthing class. I had the major stuff purchased, stroller, car seat and crib by the time I was five months along. Her room was completely done long before her arrival, the only detail left, the baby.
This time, sad to say, I’m feeling more unprepared than ever. His room is one big mess and every time I peek in there I can’t bring myself to do anything more than shut the door and pretend one day I will have energy to tackle it.
The other day I attempted a little pinterest craft for his room. It turned out looking like shit leaving me all the more discouraged. Reminding me, this is what happens when I try to DIY.
I’m hesitating on the idea of transferring Milly into a big bed meaning no crib is available for our new baby. I’ve told myself I’ll play it by ear. The truth is I’ve never ever been able to play anything by ear and flying by the seat of my pants? Well, let’s just say I hardly know the meaning of such terms. I’ve always combated my amount of anxiety with an exuberant amount of preparedness, and while sometimes it seems a little unpractical or unnecessary, I would argue it’s, either this or medication.
I just want to be able to sit in his perfectly decorated nursery, with a closet lined with clothes in order from newborn to 12 months, stocked with diapers burp clothes and rock back and forth in a comfortable gliding chair, perfect for nursing and breathe in and out a few times before I actually have to take care of another human being. Is that too much to ask?