As my due date draws closer, a few explosive emotions are grappling for dominance.
Fear
I am afraid.
Of pain: the physical act of childbirth. This time I know what’s coming and I’m having flashbacks. The difficult early weeks and months of breastfeeding: mastitis, thrush, reflux, tongue tie.
Of trauma: a last minute emergency, danger to myself and our baby.
Of guilt: will I feel too ill and exhausted to be the mummy Alice recognises and needs? Will I neglect our baby to be there for Alice? Can I give this baby the same level of attention and affection Alice has always had? I’m not sure it’s possible. Will my relationship with my husband survive the added pressure of another child?
Will I feel too ill and exhausted to be the mummy Alice recognises and needs? Will I neglect our baby to be there for Alice? Can I give this baby the same level of attention and affection Alice has always had? I’m not sure it’s possible.
Of difference: will I connect with this baby in the way I did with Alice? An instant and intense bond that got me through every challenge in those early weeks and months. Will I be a different mum to this baby? A different person entirely with so much to manage?
Of time motoring away from us: my first year with Alice sped by so quickly. The last year I have relished, experiencing it rather than simply existing through it. My work-life balance is right. Now there will be a new fast chaotic year, and before I know it I’ll be assessing school options, preparing to say goodbye to much of the cherished quality time I spend with my girl.
But mostly, I am afraid of loss. The loss of the way things are. The loss of our three.
I don’t feel all of this all of the time, that would be horrendous. But these worries wash over me occasionally, mostly at night or during the journey to or from work. I release them with a few tears, and try to counter them with…
Hope
(not technically an emotion but I’m tired, let me off)
I’m hopeful that our little boy will be born healthy with no complications.
I’m hopeful that I will recover without incident and somehow find the strength to manage each day. That my children will always be fed, warm and feel loved.
I’m hopeful that Alice will fall in love with her little brother, and he will enrich all our lives in ways we could never have imagined.
I’m hopeful that when the chaos subsides, and we start to find our feet, there will still be time for me and Alice, there will still be pockets of peace, and my lap and heart will make room for them both.
I have some wonderful friends (and of course a wonderful mother) with two children. The wisdom and solidarity of women who have trodden this path already are invaluable. These women tell me that it will be OK. We will all be OK. We will grow and learn together and our love will grow with us.
I know it will be hard, and there will be days I just need to survive. But I’m optimistic that we’ll get through the changes to come together with strength, patience and love.
To quote a favourite song of mine…
A simple, beautiful love is worth countless trials by this fear.
Cathy Oliver is a 30-year-old first time mum to Alice. She writes over at Mummy Woman. Head to Instagram to follow their journey in pictures, and don’t forget to follow her on Facebook and Twitter.
