Sixteen Week Update: The Slow Slide Into Chaos

W & Nug sliding into 'chaos.' I'm already there.

It's 4am and I'm in my kitchen, debating a second bowl of Cinnamon Oat Squares. I'm sixteen weeks pregnant, and insomnia has begun.

I heard Nug's feet at 2:30am. Then the creak of her door and my sleepy groan, knowing she was coming to take over the pillow and demand my arm around her. I love her cuddles, and they are getting less and less frequent, but I had already been up three times before that and I had to draw the line. I carried her back to bed, first lying next to her- a gymnastic feat for me and my growing belly- then rocking in the chair. Her long body filled my arms and she curled her legs in to keep from slipping off my round tummy. The memory of many three am's spent rocking in that chair is still with both of us, and it was the charming she needed. Easily she agreed to stay in her bed. I'm sure she was asleep before I re-fluffed my own pillow, but unfortunately for me, my mind was annoyingly full and my stomach queasily empty, so I headed downstairs.

Nature is preparing for fall and dropping the acorns from their trees. One hits the roof about every ten minutes, making a sharp thud and roll that sounds like the house is cracking its knees. And in a way, so am I. Pregnancy has a funny/amazing way of preparing you for a fall season; for storing your metaphorical acorns in expectation of the lonely winter ahead. The physical changes are obvious, but what comes as a surprise is how quickly (and constantly) my mind begins to prepare. From packing up the third bedroom to making rules for Nug's television viewing time, everything is seen through the lens of life with a new baby.

And life with a new baby is, frankly, a very scary thought. Of course I am excited- I am feeling the first real kicks this week, an incredible feeling of accomplishment and connection- but I am also terrified of the changes. Being grumpy from lack of sleep is sometimes acceptable to W, but not cool with Nug. How will I be the energetic, creative mother that she needs? The baby isn't here yet and I can already call myself a mean, inconsistent, tired mommy. For weeks I've been wondering why Nug is so whiney and difficult, casually blaming it on the terrible twos. I realize now that the problem is me. I'm short-tempered, overwhelmed, sensitive, and now... sleepless.

Take a lesson from Nug and jump in, head first.

When I first began my studies to become a registered nurse, I figured anybody could do it. Oh, was I wrong! It took tremendous effort and will power, and a few classmates along the way who decided it wasn't for them. But anybody can actually become a parent- no study required-  which makes you think that it's somehow easy and automatic. Regardless of your perceived difficulty level, you can never drop out. I think that adds up to a lot of credits.

For me, parenting has been one big clinical rotation of letting go. Of selflessness and humility. Of doing more than I thought capable, both physically and psychologically. Of waking at three am to worry about Nug's sugar intake, my excessive weight gain (yes, here I go again) and finding a free changing table on Craigslist. Then learning that none of that really matters, or more aptly, it's all just part of the process. So I try to let go and enjoy the slide into the chaos.

Wheee?!