Well, everything, at this point. I’m teetering on 8 weeks pregnant as I write this and have been sick.as.a.dog. this time around. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m actively engaged in biological warfare with an 11 month old all day long or that this baby on board is perhaps of the fairer sex (just a guess), but I feel awful. Like, shouldn’t-a-had-that-last shot-of tequila-ohmahgawd-where’s-the-trash-can awful.
Such is the price which new life demands. I can’t see this little one yet – though I do have his/her sweet older brother to look to for a sneak peak of what may be to come – but I already feel such love for this child. Fear, certainly. An overwhelmed sense of responsibility, that too. But over and above the other emotional responses there is love. And the sense of gratitude and wonder that ‘I get to do this again!’ coupled with ‘I’m doing this again?!’
So there it is. Joey’s a big brother, and our lives will never be the same.