Yesterday I should have been resting, putting my feet up while I had the chance without a 2 year old to chase after, but yet I found myself in some sort of nesting frenzy. FRENZY I tell you!
I organised the babies room, made up the cot, washed every piece of newborn unisex clothing I could find from when Daise was a babe and got the pinks on the sidelines ready to go. I bought nappies, creams, powder, as well as some surfboard maternity pads, breast pads, some more clothes and nursing singlets, bras and pj’s and packed my bag for the hospital. Oh and thrown in for good measure (god only knows why) I sorted out the linen press which bought me the most joy of all I think. Sheets, towels, pillow cases all folded together, matching, nicely (not rolled and stuffed in like they have been for the past 2 years). The babe’s room is now ready to go. I am now ready to go. It feels good.
It was also bittersweet. Bringing out all those little clothes and all the memories that came with them. Remembering my little Daisy when she was a newborn. Remembering all the joys and anxieties that come with having a newborn. As I pulled out the 4th load of washing for the day and hung out these teeny weeny clothes alongside Daisy’s size 4 tops and skirts I couldn’t believe what a big girl the minx is now. How she doesn’t know just how much her world is about to change forever. How that little helpless thing that we had 2 years ago is now this funny, capable little lady who goes to the bathroom herself. And bosses around anyone who will listen. And will dance and sing for anyone who will stop and listen. And makes us laugh. So much. I know that this is all about to happen, and happen so fast. That before too long I will be packing up the 00’s clothing and moving onto 0’s and 1’s and so on. And this could be the last time for us too. Maybe. Maybe not. A tear or two may have been shed by this hormonal (and very large) Mumma.
And then I started to think about what else is ahead of us. This time around I have been very focused on the after we get home. All the dramas that will bring us – feeding, so sleeping, adjusting and I have barely had a thought for the whole GETTING THE BABY OUT. First time around that was all I could think of. Like prepping for a wedding and not a marriage…it was ALL about the pregnancy and labour. This time? I have honestly not thought about it. And then I started to. And I started to panic. SHIT! I started to remember the birth bit. The labour bit. The contractions bit. The pushing bit and the whole stitches bit. The hair dryer up the clacker bit after a shower bit. The sheer uncomfortableness bit. And all of a sudden I am not so ready. Am I going to remember how to do it all? I haven’t read a book, an article, attended a class or been to anything about all that stuff. Am I going to be able to do this?! I have had a few niggles of pains here and there (toni braxton hicks no doubt) or worse still they have been wind pains and I have been quite dramatic about the pain caused – how will I cope when the shit really starts to go down? ARGHHHHH!
Memories huh? Bittersweet indeed.