Ramblings of an Expectant Dad 2.0: Anxiety and Anticipation

 

For prior editions of The Ramblings of an Expectant Dad 2.0, click the links below:

________________

I have been really struggling with putting things into words lately, especially when it comes to these ramblings. It's not that I don't want to write, mind you. It's more that most of the time I feel completely overwhelmed. The stress and anxiety accompanying the impending arrival of Offspring, The Sequel has been unlike any I've ever felt. I don't know why. I can't explain it. There's just so much more at stake this time. And I know that seems odd to say, but it's not just mom and dad's lives that are affected this time around. I have another daughter to think about, too. And as excited as she is, the notion of a sibling coming into her wee existence is perhaps a little more than her tiny little mind can comprehend right now. I… I just… *sigh*

(Okay, breathe. In. Out. Repeat. Let it out.)

I am breathing! Okay, hyperventilating, but I'm still taking brea –

(Wait. Wait a minute.)

What?

(You said another daughter… So offspring 2.0 is a girl???)

Oh, yeah. See? I haven’t been able to write since August. You've missed a little. Yes, we are indeed having another girl. There will be girls. Plural. Plus mom. So that's me and… add the… carry the 2…. Three women in the house. So many. So many girls… so, so many….

(First, congratulations! And second: BWAAAAHAAHAAAAHAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Hardy har har. I jest, but honestly, that's the least of my worries. Really. I know how mini women work.

(*stares skeptically*)

I mean from a physiological perspective! I get how the parts work and how to clean them and how to avoid getting peed and projectile pooped on and all that stuff. Plus we have a boatload of clothes already, so we've already saved like $3,720 dollars on apparel. With any luck my girls will be close, as sisters close in age typically are.  Hehe. My girls.

 *grins uncontrollably*

But herein lies the rub: Our first edition is very excited about her sister's arrival. She is. She's starting to talk about when her sister comes out of mommy's tummy, and she talks to her through mom's belly and offers her snacks. It's adorable. But…. Daughter 1.0 is still not even three years old. She's feeling things she can't explain or articulate. And it suuuuuuuuuucks. Because the only way she can manifest such feelings is by acting out, testing boundaries, and exhibiting some pretty severe insecurity.

(Oh man. Poor little thing.)

Indeed. My heart literally breaks. She's regressed a bit, too, which from everything we've read is apparently, perfectly normal. Potty training? Yeah, not so much right now. Sleep regression? Boy howdy. I can count on one hand the number of nights all three of us have slept through an entire night in the last several months on one cartoon hand that, if you are an astute cartoon watcher, generally only has four fingers total. And that's not even the worst part.

(Um, not sleeping is pretty bad.)

Yeah but this is me we're talking about. I haven't had a full night's sleep since 1986 and I'm pretty sure that was medically induced. No, the worst part is that during this time my baby girl wants zip, zero, zich, nil, nada, nothing to do with Daddy in those mid-night awakenings.

(Oh. Yeah that does suck.)

You have no idea. It's hard enough to see my daughter so upset. It's another to know that her being upset is keeping my very pregnant wife up. And of course there's the whole "I'm your daddy and I would literally walk through fire for you why are you being so mean and hurtful and I know that you're not doing it on purpose but as a father who loves his daughter 3000 it stabs me in the heart when you push me away like this" factor.

The.

Worst.

Feeling.

Ever. 

I go in to try and calm her down, and she says "No daddy. I want mommy! You go downstairs and do the dishes!"

(Yeah, that's, um… dishes?)

I blame my mother-in-law for that one. Her little trick to get the wee one down for a nap at her house is to tell her it's time for a nap, and that she, i.e. MIL, is going to go downstairs and do the dishes. Hence….

(Ahhhhhh. Got it.)

It would be a lot sillier and cuter if it didn't, you know, hurt. And it shouldn't hurt. I shouldn't take it personally, but name me one parent that doesn't die a little inside when their little one pushes them away. What kind of parent doesn't want to be there for their child always and forever and feel sad and inadequate when they can't? To not feel this way in this situation takes a "special place in hell reserved for you" kind of parent.

So yeah… these past few months have been hard.

BUT….

I'm gonna be a dad again. Dad to another daughter. We have the nursery pretty well set, with a new crib and some homemade decorations from framily to adorn the walls and honestly the cutest changing area ever in this history of dirty diapers. We have a new house, in which we have a new sectional couch, in the corner of which I cannot wait to curl up with one daughter on each side of me and watch Finding Dory for the 1,457,813th time. And I'm going to enjoy it each and every time.

Parenting is hard. Parenting while becoming a parent to another child his harder. I'm blessed to have such a wonderful partner. I couldn't do this without her. Mainly because, you know, I don't have a uterus and such.

(*facepalm*)

I’m kidding! Well, I'm not. I really don't have a uterus. That would be weird. What I mean is I cannot envision going through this whole parenting thing with anyone else. And it's good thing too because she married me and she's kinda stuck with me forever. 

So… venting complete. Come tomorrow we're on the one-month march to multiple offspring. That is, of course, as long as this country doesn't go all Lord of the Flies come November 3rd. IF it does though, I 've got a conch and I'm not afraid to use it.

Thirty-one days and counting. Maybe more. Maybe less.

 I'm gonna be a dad again.

 

Comments

Post a Comment