No need to be anybody but oneself. (only_more_love) wrote,
No need to be anybody but oneself.
only_more_love

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lather, rinse, repeat

My EDD is Sunday, Feb. 22nd (TT's bday!).  This is just a guess date; babies don't follow calendars.  As excited as I am to meet my daughter, I am still content to let her hang out until she decides she's done baking.  Fortunately, the midwife/OB practice I see has stated that they'll do a fetal non-stress test if we go to 41 weeks with no baby, and if that is fine, there won't be any talk of induction before 42 weeks.  That makes me feel pretty good.

Pregnancy has taught me a lot, and I'm sure parenting will teach me even more.  These last few weeks of pregnancy have brought out the crazy in me.   Only someone who knows me really well would see it, but it's there.  I am generally pretty self-aware and have a decent sense of my personality strengths and weaknesses.  I usually am not prone to seeing things in black and white or being perfectionistic, but occasionally, like right now, it sneaks up on me.  

The baby isn't going to care if there's dust on the TV or if every last thing on my damned to do list is done or not.  She'll want food, a place to sleep, something warm to wear, someone to hold her, and someone to wipe her tush fifty times a day.  I have to remind myself of that because DH's right; I need to scale it back a notch and relax.  The real insanity and anxiety will begin once the baby's here.  I'll need energy for bringing her into the world and then making sure she stays in one piece.  I'm not helping anyone, least of all myself, by pushing myself this hard to get everything done.  There's no end to it.  There will always be (at least) one more thing on that blasted to do list.  Everything I clean will get dirty again.  Life won't end once the baby's here; I'll have to get used to bringing her along for the ride as I do everything else.  In trying to be efficient and organized to the nth degree, I am quickly getting stressed, exhausting myself, and keeping myself up at night.

So....  Deep breaths...  I am not perfect.  No one has EVER thought I'm perfect.  I can't be perfect.  The baby won't expect me to be perfect.  Anyone who'll judge me for not being perfect isn't worth worrying about anyway.  

Nor am I an abject failure.  I'm human -- usually well-intentioned but still so very fallible.  And that is OK.  That is enough.

I am allowed to do something silly and fun.  I am allowed to watch TV.  I am allowed to not be a fucking grown-up every single second.  No one's even asking me to be like this; it's self-imposed. 

The world will not end because the stove isn't spotless. 

And if it ends tomorrow, the stove is the last thing I'll be thinking about. 

Deep breaths...
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