I am a planner. Hartley's nursery was painted and her furniture purchased before we even knew her gender. And a few weeks ago I deemed the nursery ready for its occupant and have hardly had to touched it since. In fact, I put her linens on so early I'm wondering if they'll accumulate dust before she arrives.
And for the most part, I've hated pregnancy so much that I wanted it to end as soon as it was safe enough for it to end.
But now I feel like it just went so fast. I'm in denial that she is going to enter this world without having me as a constant shell of protection. And I don't know how ready I am, though there's nothing I could possibly do to prepare myself more. It's like a test you've studied for non stop, you know as much as your brain can hold, but you can't shake those butterflies (and you might even pray for a snow day).
I know I'm holding myself to incredibly high standards but after so much build up over the years, I just want to be perfect for her. I will make mistakes but I don't want to.
And the second I load things in that bag I'm going to realize that we can't stay like this forever. I can't just hold her in and not take the next big leap.
At the same time, I am excited to welcome her in to the world. And I need to realize that even when she's here I can still be her bubble of comfort and safety - just not the literal version that I currently am. I can't even fathom what it will be like on her birth day or what it will feel like to hold her in my arms. But I need to focus on that and use that image to spur the packing process.
Keep your fingers crossed that I at least start packing today. It's time to realize motherhood isn't just some dream that will never come to fruition. In a few weeks, it will very much be my reality.
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