The Count Down

It’s all becoming so very real now. After 38 extremely short weeks, I think I’ve finally come to the realization that this pregnancy will end and there will be a real, live baby to show for it. 

And now I’m feeling all the feels. 

Every time I see a newborn baby, I literally have to karate chop the happy tears that seem to come rushing full force to get out. Having been through it before… the oxytocin…the falling in love…the finally seeing what she looks like after dreaming for so long. Every time I see someone else’s newborn, I just can’t wait any longer to hold another one of my very own again. 

And then I get dressed in the morning. 

As I’m putting on my bra, I’m reminded that these beautifully plump boobs aren’t going to be mine for very much longer. Soon I’ll be nourishing this new little one every 2 hours and that triggers some anxiety.

Don’t get me wrong. I love breastfeeding.  I love how incredibly bonding it can be for you and baby. I love how it forces you to slow down and just enjoy one another. Not to mention the health benefits for not only your baby but also for you. 

I loved breastfeeding Shiloh, however, I also loved the letting go of it. After 18 months with her on the boob, I rejoiced when I realized I finally had my body to myself again. Oh that sweet, sweet physical freedom. 

No more cramming myself into the back of our car while beads of sweat run down my back and down baby’s face. No more sore nipples. No more having to leave the room when we have a male guest at our house.

By the way…It seems as though my level of FOMO turned up about 8 notches when I had to step out of the room to nurse. I swore I was missing out on the funniest-thing-you’ve-ever-seen-or-heard-in-all-your-life every time it was time to nurse. 

If my husband wasn’t so modest and concerned about even the slightest of nip slip, I’d whip it out wherever, whenever, just for the sake of not missing out on life.

As I wash and fold all the new clothes and Shiloh’s hand-me-downs, I’m again filled with so much joy about holding this innocent babe who smells so perfectly of milk and spit up. I’m reminded how entertaining a new baby can be just by sitting there doing literally nothing. Every face twitch is hilarious. Listening to her breathe. Watching her belly rise and fall while she sleeps feels like sitting near heaven’s gates. 

As I crawled into bed last night at 11pm, I started to mourn my sleep. Recollecting those 2am, 3:30am, 5:30am, 7am wake up calls from that sweet, yet incredibly displeasing newborn cry. It’s nauseating when I think about how close I am to that schedule again. Can someone please just handle that for me?

Every morning, typically as we sit down for breakfast, Shiloh waves towards my belly and yells “Morning baby sissy!” And every morning, the anticipation of who Shiloh will become once her baby sissy actually arrives is almost too unbearable. She’s been obsessed with my belly this whole pregnancy. If watching her wave to my belly, kiss my belly, and tell baby sissy good morning every day causes my heart to explode, what is going to happen when she’s actually here? Will my heart be able to handle all the cuteness? 


Sometimes when all three of us are hanging out on the couch or sit down to dinner, I’m overwhelmed with sadness about how our family dynamic will forever change. Not in like a “will a new baby will mess this up” way, but more like a “we will never be the same again” way. 

I’m fully aware we are stepping into another love-filled season, yet I’m having to say goodbye to everything I know, and all that we’ve built over the last 26 months. It’s the end of a really good era. 

It’s like that time I had to give up the world’s best roommate to get married and live with a boy. Or like that time I couldn’t let my husband out of my sight before the birth of our first child. Every time life takes a turn, you can’t help but hold onto and inhale those last moments of comfort. These were the moments when I’m sure they coined the term bittersweet. 

If I could sum it all up into one word, I would. But I can’t. I’m ecstatic, yet terrified. Full of anticipation, yet still very hesitant. 

Since this will most likely be my last blog before she arrives, I can’t wait to let you all know how it goes. Say a prayer for me. 

Tessa BenzComment