Well it’s almost time.

The hospital bags are packed and in the car.

The to-do lists are almost all done.

The house has been wrecked and cleaned to the point that one would be forgiven for assuming that we’re hosting a Station Mass.

The Husband is exhausted (well, he thinks he is!) and the Mini-me is bouncing off the walls with excitement.

And me?

I’m absolutely bricking it.

I think that even after nearly 10 months of being pregnant, (tell me please where the magic number 9 came from?), it only hit me that there’s an actual baby arriving when I opened the box of baby clothes last week to begin washing.  When I lifted the first little vest out of the “0-3 neutral” box, my heart almost stopped.

To me, my Mini-Me is still a baby.  She’s almost 4 and taller than most 5 year olds, but she’s my wee baby.  She’s in pre-school and growing more independent by the day, but she’s only a baby…to me.

As I emptied the little vests and babygrows, I was thrown back in time and could clearly see her brand new little self, dressed in each outfit.  I could even remember the first time she wore some of the outfits;  the oooohs! and aaaahs! of family members when they saw the little outfits on her; how I felt all grown up dressing my real-life Dolly in the adorable pieces.  And it stirred up a barrage of emotions that I really don’t have the words for.

Mini-me is excited about being a Big Sister.  She has been practicing on dolls and we talk about the new baby all the time.  Baby Bubba, (as she calls my belly), is coming to live with us soon.  And while she can’t wait, I’m terrified as she doesn’t quite understand what’s ahead of her.

No longer will she be the absolute, single and only centre of our world.  No longer will the bedtime routine be all about her.  No longer will I be able to read three bedtime stories just because I can.

She’s going to have to learn a whole new set of skills; how to share, how to wait until Mammy or Daddy are able to give her attention; how to be the Big Sister.

In one of my hormonal snotfests recently, I admitted to Hubby that my biggest fear is not being able to be mammy to both of my babies.  I’m more afraid of Mini-Me feeling left out or unloved, than I am of giving birth.

I’m afraid of how she’s going to cope while I’m in hospital.  I’m dreading her being told that it’s time to go home at the end of visiting hours.  I’m terrified that she’s going to decide that we’re not keeping the baby! (I have it on authority from another S-Mum that this can happen…)

I’m petrified that she’s going to, at some point, have to stand back and watch another little person getting the attention that she’s always had the monopoly on.

In short, I’m just bloody terrified.

And yet, rational me knows that she’s not the first child to become a big sister.

I’m the eldest of 6 and at no point in my life have I ever felt any of the things that I’m worried she’ll feel.  Having younger brothers and sisters has made me me. It has enriched my life and continues to provide fun every day, even in adulthood!  The companionship and certainty of friendship that siblings provide can never be measured and I know that Mini-me will thrive.

She’s going to be just fine.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to worry.

I’m pregnant.  I’m emotional.  I’m probably a little teensy bit crazy, but I’m allowed to be.  I’m allowed the odd melt down.  I’m allowed to succumb to absolutely irrational notions that randomly pop into my head.  And anyone who wants to dismiss my fears as nonsense, is either very brave or very foolish. (Or they’ve never experienced being 28 months pregnant!)

And along side all of this crazy, I’m excited.  I can’t wait to finally meet the little munchkin who has been battering my insides so beautifully.  I can’t wait to see if the name we’ve chosen suits.  I can’t wait to see if there’s resemblance to Mini-Me.  I can’t wait to hear their little voice for the first time.  I can’t wait to see Mini-me’s face when she sees a real baby!  (I can’t wait to see my own toes and to no longer have cramps in my arse cheek every 45 minutes…but that’s a whole other post!)

Holding the vest reminded me that inside this abnormally HUMONGOUS and very uncomfortable bump, my next Mini is getting ready to come join in the madness of our home.  They too will wear the little vests and they too will stamp all over our hearts with their tiny wee feet.  They will love the Big Sister unconditionally and will be loved in return.

And I can not wait.

I am Soon-to-be Mum. 🙂

 

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