I'm not sure why I've been reluctant to talk about this pregnancy as much on the blog. It sort of feels like my own little secret if I don't discuss it, a private part of my public life. It's sort of silly since my belly now greets most people before I do, and at nearly 7 months pregnant, its not a secret to anyone who sees me in person that new life is on its way. I suppose I've also been waiting for some eloquent and profound reflection that has never materialized.
This pregnancy feels a bit more scary for some reason. I'm not sure it is, but I feel like it is none the less. Writing makes it feel a little clearer. I am sometimes convinced I haven't been a good enough mother to a child I haven't even given birth to yet. Afraid every poor food choice, every missed prenatal vitamin, every failure to get out and exercise means future problems for a child, yet unborn. All this in spite of blood tests, ultrasounds, now bi-weekly appointments that point to nothing but healthy development.
The fear may speak more to my general anxiety about what it will mean to be the mother of two children... the self-doubt I have, despite thinking of myself as a competent person in most regards. I know there's not much good that comes from fretting, worrying, being fearful. I've sat through enough Sunday school lessons, and uncomfortable conversations where people lecture me on how fear is of the devil, bad for your health, and everything in between.
My goal is to be less fearful, to just take one day at a time doing my best to be productive and healthy. I thought I was more successful than not, but then I finished this post, so now I'm not so sure, given one of my biggest fears still remains... that all of my worrying will worry something bad into existence.