Well, my period was a tad bit late this month, and believe me when I say, I did not have the same attitude this time around. In fact, I had a mini freak out. Those few days while I was waiting with my fingers, eyes, and legs crossed, I began to let my mind wander into the abyss. It was an anxiety-ridden week:
Wait! I just started enjoying sleeping on my stomach!
But I haven’t lost all the baby weight from my first pregnancy!
I can’t mother two kids at the same time! Are you crazy?!
I had to face the very real possibility of being pregnant again. So I took matters into my own hands. I decided that if I was actually preggers, then I would be positive and pro-active. So I took naps (I was out of practice), I reacquainted myself with my favorite baby / birthing shows, and I started eating for two. Wait. That’s a lie. I’ve already been doing that the past couple of weeks. My bad…
On the other hand, staying positive proved difficult because I had to fight these thoughts:
• But we were finally able to put away all the baby’s stuff! I’m gonna have to pull all that stuff out again? I was just getting used to our house not looking like Babies ‘R Us exploded in it!
• Another baby means adding another set of poopie diapers, a load and a half of laundry, and another two years of sleeplessness
• Labor. Labor. Labor.
[Sidenote: I was watching TLC’s “A Baby Story” this afternoon. Watching a woman’s super swollen belly being pushed and pushed and pushed on in an attempt to turn the baby. And what do the cameramen do? Put her face in a close-up (just in case we aren’t convinced by her screaming and crying) that what she was going through was excruciatingly painful. Why do I torture myself like this?]
Oh well. All that drama for nothing. Aunt Flo showed up - fashionably late - making everything I went through a moot point. Which just goes to show: be careful what you wish for, you might almost get it, freak out, then not get it.