12 weeks…

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There’s no doubt he’s growing.  22 weeks on the left and 28 weeks  on the right.

It’s hard to believe we’re down to 12 weeks to meet this little guy.  Didn’t we just find out it was a boy?  Didn’t I just pee on that stick?

This pregnancy has been so very different with a tiny smidge of the same.  There’s no time for naps or rest with big brother E around.  Every kick, turn, and flip makes me slightly emotionally unstable because I’ve realized in 12 short weeks I’ll be figuring out a new life with two little ones in the house.   The maternity clothes aren’t cute like they were last time.

I cry almost every night I put Easton to bed as he flips and turns on my lap because it both hurts and I’m also sad that I may not get as much one on one time as I once had with him.  I stare at his crib with tears in my eyes wondering why we can’t just keep him caged up forever.  Do we really have to move him to a big boy bed?  Sure, the answer is no, but it just makes sense to do it now and give the baby the crib.

And this new baby boy – this poor thing gets nothing new.  Bless his little heart.  Hand me downs will be the name of the game.  Will he care?  Nah.  Do I care?  A little bit.  I’m also slightly excited to watch him grow in and out of the very same clothes my first babe wore.  Comparing pictures of the two of them that I suppose will look identical.  Or will they?

I have a million thoughts running through my head.  Like 20 browser tabs open at once.  All day.  Every day.  I’m fortunate that my loving husband “gets” that about me and lovingly obliges to my demanding requests.

The nursery is painted and ready to move furniture.  We’re moving it in just a couple of short weeks so we can use spring break to adjust to a big boy bed and finish up the nursery’s final touches.  Now that I’m a second time momma I realize how ridiculous that kind of is.  This baby isn’t even going to sleep in that room for at least 6 months.  I know this.  I also know I’ll feel a hell of a lot better if it’s all done and ready for his arrival.

We’re so close to being there.  Then we have to get out the totes of newborn and 0-3 month clothing that are packed away in the shed.  I’ll probably cry again as I wash and fold and put them away.

Will E be as excited to meet his little brother as I hope he will be?

Right now he’s named him Pizza.  Baby Pizza.  I sure hope he likes the name we decide on and stops calling him pizza at some point.

Will he love him?  Will he take care of him?  Or will he kick, punch, and beat the crap out of him?  Will they cry together all the time?  Will they give me a break and possibly nap at the same time?

So many questions…..so many unknowns.

This motherhood shit is a bit scary y’all.

It’s even more terrifying when you add one more to the mix. I do not feel emotionally prepared for this.

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