I am scared. Really scared.
I've tried not to think about the fact that this thing growing inside me will soon be on the outside and it'll be up to me to keep it fed, entertained, alive. Because truth is...when I think about it, I have anxiety attacks.
I'm not scared about the actual birth. I know my body was made for this.
The thing is... I'm selfish. I like having all day to do what I want, when I want, how I want, for as long as I want, without anyone telling me otherwise. I also love the fact that I can sleep whenever I want, for as long as I want, and right now I'm getting about 10 hours of sleep each night. I am not ready to give all of that up and be on someone else's schedule.
I am not ready for something to be latched on me 24/7 and literally sucking the life out of me. I'm not ready to be at someone else's beck and call.
What if he's colicky? What if we have trouble breastfeeding and it's really challenging for the both of us? What if I get so impatient with him and I'm so sleep-deprived that I want to abandon him at the local fire department?
I am a planner. Not knowing when he will arrive hasn't bugged me yet because I've still got a few weeks until it's really real. But the other unknowns are wigging me out.