Oh dear. Oh d-d-d-dear dear.

We’ve gone from 0 to 60 in three days and it’s stressful and busy and we’re both working too much and worrying too much and there’s too many phone calls, too many what if’s.

We’re mired in the last stages of a long process with Adam’s business and we’re getting down to the wire and decisions have to be made and actions taken and I’m trying to help but I’m surprisingly useless when it comes to matters like these. 

I’ve always tried to maintain a distance from his job, I wanted a husband not a boss or a business partner. 

I deeply desired that disconnect, that separation of our work and personal lives. 

It worked and it didn’t , I’ve had varying degrees of success maintaining this separation over the past 7 years, sometimes having zero involvement and at one point working with Adam full time (PRO TIP: Don’t do this.)

But now, now that he needs me, now that we’re standing here in the home stretch of an all hands on deck situation I am so clueless, so in over my head that I can’t do much more than panic. And stress. And then stress about being stressed because did you know that babies who have stressed mothers are more likely to develop mood disorders later in life? 

Then I stress about becoming the kind of neurotic mother that reads such bizarre one-off studies and loses all critical-thinking skills simply because she has reproduced.

*deep breath*

I’m done, I’m done.

(except I’m not done. We’re not done – not even close, and that’s the problem) 

The timing seems like the worst possible, especially when all I want to do these days is sit and fold baby clothes into a dresser drawer. 

I want to prepare for the future, this brand new world opening up beneath our feet but instead we’re sitting here stuck, sifting through the rubble of the past few years trying to make sense of it all.

But even if it is the worst possible timing (and sometimes I think it is, I mean really who wouldn’t want to throw their entire lives into chaos and uncertainty a mere three months before the birth of their first child?) it couldn’t have happened any other way. 

It wouldn’t have happened any other way.

When Adam and I used to talk about having kids, the question was never if, but when. When I would discuss it with friends, going through the pros and cons of doing it now -were we ready? would we ever be ready?- the conversation would always pause, and they would inevitably say something to the effect of, “Whenever it happens will be the right time.”

And that was that. I never knew what to make of this statement, this pithy conversation stopper. It went against every instinct I had to plan, to prepare. It felt backwards and strange but Internets, they were right. (Aren’t they always?)

t’s the right time because it becomes the right time. You have to make it the right time and even though it seems impossible at times (like right now, for instance) you do it, you just do.

You use those nine months to create the right time if it wasn’t there before because that’s how it has to be.

So here we are, we’re doing it (we’ve done it, it’s done!) and it’s the worst possible timing but it’s the best, too. 

Sometimes you find yourself sitting on a situation, stagnating, knowing full well in the back of your mind that you should be moving forward but lacking the push. This was true for us over the past few years. And let me tell you, you want a push? Get pregnant. 

Boom. Suddenly our lives were in motion, wheels were turning and weeks were passing and some days it seemed to take forever, this nine month wait, but others sped by with squiggly stress lines around them and then one day you find yourself in your Naturopath’s office, gobsmacked because she’s just told you that you are now in your third trimester. 



We are in the final stretch, and we are feeling it. My belly is growing and our lives are changing and there’s just not enough space and I’m finding it hard to breathe. 

I don’t quite know how to wrap this post up. It’s open-ended, without a clear resolution, (much like everything else in our lives right now). 

The ending is a question mark.

Previous Post Next Post

You Might Also Like

No Comments

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.