Shutting down.

"Don't you go anywhere."
"What?"
I'm laying in bed while Palmer plays with Bella downstairs. I had spent about 15 minutes scrolling through my FB app without reading anything - just swirling convoluted and intoxicating thoughts, worries and fears around in my head.
"Don't you go anywhere on me," he says again.
I'm laying in bed so this is making no sense. 
"You can't shut me out. You can lay down but please don't shut me out again."
Immediately I'm scolding the tears building up behind my eyes. I'm shutting down, which is what I do when I don't know how to handle something or when things are getting a little too dark; I bring it inward. That Palmer recognized that before I really did is not only proof of the man he's become over the past years and how well our relationship has learned to function but also a reminder of the dangers of my habits.



And this is where I'm ridiculous. I can write again why I started this blog but it's all on the right hand corner under the picture. I needed a place to be honest and to share my honesty with other people, especially mothers, who may (and probably) struggle with the same things I do. 
However, I didn't intend for this to be a brooding or fluffy blog about how much I love my kids or about how sad I am that they poop all over me without apologizing. I just meant it to be me in words and pictures. So posting about our Christmas advent activities was fun. Posting recipes is easy. Sharing my little at home preschool adventures makes me feel good. But when it's time for me to sit down and type something brutally honest that likely reflects really poorly on me as a parent, I sit for days in front of Netflix avoiding my computer. 
Remember that time I started a blog intending to make myself vulnerable by posting my raw thoughts and feelings for a minute? That was funny. 

But it's time. I am over 10 months pregnant and might I add, that is not the 9 months that everyone's always sold you into. I go in tomorrow to be induced and I am dazed by my conflicting emotions. 
There is actually an end in sight. I can actually make plans for when I'm not pregnant, which I don't remember now what it's like to not be pregnant. (I'm kind of joking.) But we've been through these steep ups and downs with thinking the end was in sight that it's hard to believe it really is happening. It's hard to be happy. 

 I go from being elated at this thought to scared so blindly that I can't function. I had a rather traumatizing labor and delivery with Bella (what L&D isn't terribly traumatizing...a person tore through your vagina or was ripped out of your stomach...that's effing dramatic). But my labor was drawn out 26 hours, involved little pain medications, restrictive bed rest the entire time, lots of stitches in places that shouldn't be stitched and then an emergency life flight to Children's Mercy hospital where I was told my newborn may have a condition .1% of babies can get. She didn't - thank God. The morning my water broke through the first couple of weeks we actually had her safe at home are literally like a bad dream I luckily don't remember much of. 

So as the (miserably pregnant) days have drawn on and on, I find myself less prepared and excited and much more terrified and almost resentful. That's a word I've been very scared of saying because how big of a baby am I? And how terrible of an expectant mother am I to be pouting at being overdue? But I am. I go from being joyous at the anticipation of holding her in my arms to numb to the idea of the entire thing. I go from crying at pictures of newborns to laying in bed wondering if I've ruined the great balance and life we have. I go from thinking about the entire labor process feeling empowered to sitting in tears in the middle of the night scared to death of what I've gotten myself into. 
The last several weeks have left me with a lot of time to dwell on all of the things that can go wrong. And to make plans accordingly for all of those horrible "What ifs". This unexpected extra time has left me in more of the guilt of being an incapable mom to Bella as the times I say, 'Mommy can't do this' and 'I'm sorry sweety, pretty soon I can do that again' are more and more frequent. And then another round of my fear that I've made a horrible mistake in thinking that  I can be the kind of mom I want to be to TWO children. These days being confined and waiting have left me more and more terrified that the dark and scary weight of depression will revisit, too. The kind of darkness a good mom would never experience.

I keep mostly grounded in remembering that most of what I'm thinking and feeling are a waste of energy and time...but that only pacifies them for so long. 

Today I wanted to plan a final day of play for Bella and I. I was going to take her to Laugh Out Loud (a local indoor play area), we would have lunch with daddy, make a couple of projects together including decorating some onesies for baby and finish the day with daddy joining us in more fun. We made it to LOL and when it was time to leave we had a meltdown. It was one of those really embarrassing parent moments where your child is acting like a little snot literally in front of a circle of spectating parents and my giant Beluga whale pregnant self couldn't control the situation. We made it to the car, luckily held off tears from both parties until later, but it was really hard to keep this moment from solidifying all of my fears of failure.

I feel like now I'm just droning on about the same things. What I haven't said enough about is the other half of the time I just can't wait for sweet baby girl to be here. When Bella lighting up when we talk about baby breaks my heart. When I excitedly announce to whoever is around how old baby will be this time next year and I already have a hard time imagining her not being around. How much I love feeling how spirited she is and she's not even born yet. How it brings me to tears that Bella kissed my baby belly for the last time tonight. 

See what I mean? These thoughts and emotions make a person crazy. 
And for all of that I do apologize for this post. It's honest and ranty and all over the place, which is what it's supposed to be but I was hoping for something at least slightly well written also.

So at this point, I'm going to keep my mind busy with Netflix and wait for my Tylenol PM to kick in. The next time I write anything in this, I'll have had the baby. Awesome.

If for some reason you do read this before any kind of announcement that we've had her safely, please pray for us.