Pregnancy=Writer's Block?

You'd think that this week, of all weeks, I would have a ton to write about; the baby in my belly, the fact that I'm turning 30, the boys tugging at my last shred of patience. But when I sit down to write, I can't seem to formulate a complete thought. Maybe it's that I have so much to write about, so many thoughts and emotions running through my head, too many to make sense of, much less organize. Here I go again, I'm at a loss for what to say. Of course, it might have something to do with the fact that I have to swat Blake's hand away every two seconds, since he's trying to type a little something himself.

This time last year I was walking 2-4 miles a day with my mom trying desperately to get a child out of my belly, and now I'm going to do it all over again? I haven't even been "not pregnant" for a full year. Overwhelmed! That is how I feel today. Shock is wearing off, and panic is starting to set in. How am I going to handle 3 kids under 3 1/2? That's crazy, right? I can tell you all think so, because everyone gives the same reaction; jaw drops, face scrunches, and you say, "congrats?" It's certainly not the same reaction I got when I told people I was pregnant the last two times. I get it though. I had the same reaction. "What? Are you kidding me?" But now that it's starting to set in and feel more real, I'm questioning how in the world I'm going to be able to parent 3 children, and parent well. Heck, I'm not even sure I'm doing that well with two kids. Okay, I realize I'm starting to freak out a little and that was not my intention. Not really sure what my intentions were though, since I didn't have anything to say 5 minutes ago.

Do you know what bothers me the most about this? I busted my butt for months to lose the baby weight I gained with Blake (which wasn't much, but I never lost all of it from Owen), to no avail might I add. And now I'm pregnant again, starting out 10 pounds heavier than I did the last time. Now, the silver lining is that after this one I'm done, and I can focus on losing all the weight once and for all. But between now and then, I get to feel frumpy. Although in about four months, I'll be showing and feeling more pregnant and my insecurities sort of float to the back of my mind until after the baby is born. That is one of the perks about being pregnant, a free ride on the weight issue. But the ride comes to an end eventually.

Another thing that bothers me is all the questions this raises. What do we do about the house? Do we move? Will it finally be a girl? Or another boy? How will this affect camp this summer? Will Owen be potty trained by August so he can start pre-school? Will I keep my sanity? What would my dad think?

Let's address the last one first. I think he would have thought we were crazy, but he would have been happy for us in the end. He would have appreciated the irony though. Out of death came new life. But that is also the part that kills me. He'll never even meet this one. He'd seen Owen several times, and met Blake at Thanksgiving. It's bad enough that none of my children will ever remember my dad. Actually, with the exception of my nephews Logan & Ben, I imagine that none of his grandchildren will have that clear of a memory of him. And that saddens me. And Alex, my little sister, misses out the most. She won't have Dad to be at her college graduation, walk her down the aisle at her wedding or meet her children. So even though I'll never forget the circumstances surrounding this conception, it breaks my heart to think that Dad will never meet her (or him).

Will it finally be a girl? Or another boy? I don't know, but I will find out. No surprises here. I really want a girl, and this is my last chance, but boy or girl, this child will be unconditionally loved. Please be a girl!

What about the whole house thing? Neil said to me the other night that he'd like to be in a new house before the baby comes. I assume he was talking about here in Maryland, but if an opportunity came up down South, he would pursue that as well. At this point, it's clear that I don't know what's best for us, so we'll just have to trust in something greater, like God's perfect plan. He already knows where we'll be 9 months from now. We just haven't been clued in yet.

Amazing how I had nothing to say, and yet all these words appear on this page. Maybe an elf came in while I was getting ready for my pilates class and wrote a little something. Or maybe I received a litle inspiration. Who knows?