When I got pregnant again, I was extremely excited. My husband and I were finally in a point in our lives where the idea of an infant sounded like rainbows and unicorns shitting lollipops, and Layla was just becoming a toddler. So we took action.
I never imagined I would get pregnant so quickly. I guess I didn’t bring into play that I come from a family of fertile Myrtles. So, a month later we started our journey into baby number two. When we planned to produce another Eller, it never occurred to me that this pregnancy would be different from my first.
With Monster, I never got sick, I gained 25 pounds, and really the only sign that reminded me I was pregnant was my belly and random kicking now and again. It was a heavenly pregnancy.
Right now, I am 6 months in, and I am ready to pop this demon out and cuddle it already. My first two months were spent puking. I am tired all the time. I already can’t see my toes, let alone tie my own shoes without a couple of tries, huffing and puffing. I get jabs to the ribs and the bladder at least hourly. Oh, and I have a toddler. I didn’t think about that very well.
I really appreciate my mother now. How she did it with five children makes my head partially implode. All of these women around me with children so close in age, I am bowing my head to you. Teach me your secrets. There has to be a society of women that share there parenting secrets, and I haven’t gotten the invite in the mail yet. So I am still waiting. I am invited, right?
The scariest moment for me is the idea of a newborn and Layla in the same room together. We practice all the time with her baby dolls, but I know she has no idea that we are about to crush her spoiled little world in January with a crying, pooping, vomiting thing that she can’t return. And honestly she hasn’t figured out when you want a baby to sleep, you don’t throw it to the ground and say “SLEEP NOW!” with your foot digging it’s face into the carpet.
And potty-training. She will be two in October, and I have a feeling she is ready to start the potty-training journey, but is it even worth it? I have been scared into the idea that as soon as Demon is born, Monster will abandon all skills of pissing in a toilet, and I don’t want to make it harder on anyone.
On top of all of this, I am a train wreck of hormones. I cried watching “Good Luck Charlie” on Disney channel, and I am not sure if it’s worse to admit I wasn’t watching it because of Monster, but because after she went to bed I realized the remote was in our kitchen and I didn’t want to go grab it, and that damn baby was adorable too. I think my life would be a hell of a lot easier if I wasn’t raging with emotional break downs every ten seconds.
So now I am here. Staring at my fat ass, wondering when it will stop growing, with cereal in my hair, and yogurt handprints on my belly (gee thanks Layla), wondering if I can survive two of them, wishing my husband was sixteen hours closer. But I’ll put my usual shit eating grin on my face, and remind myself that God wouldn’t have given me this life if I couldn’t handle it.
I can handle it, right?