High five

Five weeks from today, I will have my second child.

OK, in theory it could be sooner. But we know it won't be later than that, as it is my scheduled induction date. But let's pretend I am going to make it to my induction, just for shits and giggles.

I am so not into the idea of going into labor and having to suffer through contractions for hours on end at home. No thank you, next please. I want my epidural and I want it early. No labor pains for this wuss.

We're mostly ready, in the physical sense. We have a bassinette, we have a closet full of pink clothes, we have Miracle Blankets, we have my boobs. Really, what more could we need?

But in the emotional sense, I am still freaking the shit out. I waffle between thinking I can do it all and thinking I am going to be a huge failure at mothering two children. Of course, no one else in the history of the earth has ever parented two children at once. Get over yourself, I can hear you murmuring.

But there is this ... FEAR ... that resides just behind my eyeballs and makes me lie awake at night. How will I ever manage two kids by myself all week? How will I nurse one while chasing another? How will I find time to myself when they're on opposite sleep schedules? When will I sleep? And for God's sake, how will I ever carry the new baby and keep Jack from running away from me while balancing my drink?

So I have five more weeks to freak out about these things. I am sure it will work out. Right?