Poor Paul. I’m having a rough week, so he’s having a rough week.

I assume it’s the pregnancy hormones that are responsible for this. But I’m crying at the drop of a hat. Not at Hallmark commercials or anything (although I did cry at the end of Deadliest Catch this evening.) I just am feeling overwhelmed with the enormity of the changes that are coming towards us. It’s making me cry, a lot, and I don’t like it.

I know Paul and I will be good parents. It’s not that. I know we can care for this baby. I know we’ll be able to handle the upcoming sleepless nights. I know we’ll find a stride with eating, sleeping, & pooping ad nauseum. We’ll get the hang of swaddling. We have diapers (cloth and disposable in newborn sizes) and clothes and dinners for us in our freezer. We’re as ready as we can be on that front.

It’s just…. there’s a lot riding on me these days. My physical endurance and ability to hold my proverbial shit together for another couple of days makes a huge difference in how the first days and weeks of my child’s life will go. My ability to breastfeed him will make a huge difference in his first hours/days/months, and in our finances for the foreseeable future. (The thought of paying for formula strikes fear into my heart – let alone the fact that I don’t want to give my baby formula to begin with.) I’m pushing myself to put up full-time hours at work to keep from burning my paid leave, to keep earning paid leave & benefits at a full-time rate, and to keep bringing home full-time checks. We’re doing OK financially, but not as OK as we were. This was known and expected, it’s just hard to feel the creeping slide. The buck literally and figuratively stops with me in my personal and professional life and I’m feeling the pressure of it more acutely than usual.

I’m a planner. I’m a do-er. Everyone turns to me because I’m usually right, and I do things very well. And for the most part, this works for me. I’m an overbearing bitch by default, so my take-charge attitude serves me well for the most part. But the flip side to this means that I’m lousy at “letting go” and letting other people do things. I’m used to making sure stuff gets done. So these last few weeks of being told to stop doing so much and let others do things and “go with the flow” and “just let it happen” has been making me crazy. For some people, this sounds like a vacation. For me? It’s akin to torture. (Yes, I’m sure this is indicative of some sort of trust issues that I need to work through or something.) But knowing that I’m in control of very little about my body and my mind these days is a very bitter pill for someone like me to swallow. Knowing that come Sunday evening, I will have no control over anything, that I’ll be at the mercy of IVs and Drugs and Doctors.

And then the wild and amazing world of parenthood awaits. I’m happy and excited to be riding this particular roller coaster with Paul at my side… but it’s like that coaster that you *know* you wanted to ride, and everyone says is TEH BEST THING EVAR – but it doesn’t make you question your sanity for wanting to ride it any less as you clank-clank-clank up that first huge hill, and it doesn’t make it any less scary as you tip over the top and all you can see is sky before the track comes up at you again and you’re off on the most thrilling, exciting ride you’ve ever taken.

Paul and I stood in line for a long-ass time to get on this ride. But this first hill is a doozy, and I’m freaking out a little bit. So pardon me if I scream on the way down. I’m sure I’ll be laughing by the first turn – but until then, the anticipation of what’s over that first hill is a little scary.