Gym Hottie always makes wide-eyes at my expanding bump and when I complain about a pain (“Babe, are you sure you’re [however far along the calendar notes],” he’ll ask). He questions because I’m a lot bigger than last pregnancy (“Second babies show bigger/sooner,” says everyone) and my previous measurements have already played this joke on me once. It got to make its second, yet directly proportionate, joke during the monthly prenatal visit. My vitals were perfect, heartbeat was strong, and I’m still measuring three weeks ahead. Wait. What?
The measurements combined with my internal nag doesn’t calm my nerves any less. Why am I the only one freaking out? The midwives laughed it off and assured me that my measurements are just that. Upon assessing it again, I realized I’m the only one freaking out because I’m afraid.
It’s not because of labor or my planned homebirth. That noise is easy. I’m afraid I’m not ready. I’m afraid I’m not going to have enough time with Humnoy. Three weeks is a significant amount of preparation meaning my mom-to-one freedom is slowly depleting and coming quicker than anticipated. I’m a nervous wreck because time isn’t on my side, three weeks or not. My ultimate fear of losing it while parenting is more plausible and my insecurities as a future mother of two will be realized. That’s why I’m seriously buggin’.
What is your biggest fear in pregnancy other than childbirth?
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