Let's start from the beginning, or at least from the beginning of last summer. Tyler graduated with his PhD and got a job in upstate NY as a professor. I said goodbye to my job as a teacher for the last 7 years. We said goodbye to Montana, family and friends. We headed East.
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Despite a few rocky days, it was an amazing summer. I tried to soak up every last moment with Parker as my only child. We went exploring every day. We laughed until our cheeks hurt. We took afternoon naps, snuggled close together. Our evenings were filled with walks and bike rides in the country. Life was perfect.
We talked about Matilda constantly. Parker was only 2 and 1/2 but was so intrigued by his little sister. He asked "What Tilda doing?" whenever a moment of silence would grant him the opportunity. He loved to feel her move from side to side. We read book after book and viewed pictures of her development. As the summer grew to a close, the excitement of Matilda's arrival was evident.
I was all about preparing. I wanted everything to be perfect. Parker was born in Australia and I was unable to "nest" out of practicality and circumstance. We got the key to our rental house (wallpaper and all) on the first of September, but our things did not arrive until the week before Matilda was born. I was disappointed to say the least.
I had a last minute panic attack about Matilda. I had the following concerns: Am I ready, will she be difficult, will Parker love her, will I love her as much as I love Parker, will nursing go okay, can I handle two kids on my own during the day, what if she has down syndrome, is the house going to be ready for a newborn, will I suffer from postpartum depression?
When I was pregnant with Parker I was so excited and sure I could handle anything. Yet, he proved to be a difficult baby. He never took naps (not even as a newborn). He struggled with nursing, was colicky (whatever that means), and required that I rock him while squatting/swaying in a deep side lunge for at least 45 minutes several times a day and at night. So for me, some of the anticipation and excitement for Matilda's arrival was burdened by fear and worry.
It turns out I was worried about all the wrong things.
