Unknown soldier

I am a soldier in an unknown battle, folks.


I have been very anxious lately with the shit-storm of activity that's headed my way... yet I just don't know how to prepare for it.


On one hand, I DO know a baby WILL be coming out of me... and that baby's gonna be a small helpless little thing that's going to need a LOT of attention (and milk and diapers). I'm going to be getting very little.... if any.... sleep. It's not going to be easy. but I'll do it, and I'll manage, and one day I'll wake up and that baby will be a few months or a year old, and I will catch my breath. And I take comfort that I will have a husband by my side during all aforementioned struggles, cause that's just how we roll here in Johnsonville.

but that's about all I know.


will it be a boy or a girl? when will it come? will it be a vbac or will I need to get cut open again? will it be healthy?

and then there's Rhena. .....perhaps my biggest source of strife right now.


people. I LOVE me some Rhena. I mean love love love.... makes me cry I love her so much, LOVE my baby girl.

how is SHE going to handle this new baby?

better yet... how am *I* going to handle making sure Rhena is no less loved with another body in our house?


I mean.. I know deep down it'll all work out and Rhena will be fine, and the One Within should do fairly well as well... after all, *I* am a second born, and I feel loved by MY parents.....

but will I do as good a job? I dunno.

I think that at least I'm cognizant of Rhena needing to go through an adjustment period that it should help my cause.... (I say my cause but really I mean OUR cause, cause Troy and I are definitely in this shit together) But seriously.... if I hear ONE MORE story about how someone's first-born was sweet and loving until the second one came around... I may just stick with the puking and keep this one in me forever.

I know the stories come by way of well-meaning parents of more than one child, just like all the stories I was bombarded with while pregnant with my first. When I was preggo with Rhena, it was if anyone and everyone who had given birth or known someone who had given birth was compelled to give me some horror story or another about how shit would change, the woes of no sleep, and well.... pretty much EVERYTHING.

This time around, I must say that I have really been spared a lot of stories. Maybe because I think I've perfected my "seriously, bitch... do I LOOK like I want to hear about your life???" face... or maybe the general populous figured that if I didn't figure shit out the first time through, then I ought to suffer in my stupidity?

But there has been NO MERCY in terms of people predicting my future... or rather I should say RHENA'S future in the attitude department.

For the most part, I have smiled, nodded, and then immediately disposed of any unsolicited advice, because as you know.. or at least can guess... I'm pretty good at stressing myself out. I typically need no one's help in that department.

But my Rhena. my Rhena my little baby Rhena.

I don't want her stressed. and *I'M* stressed wondering how in hell I'm going to keep HER from stressing!!!

but again. I'm fighting a battle that doesn't exist yet... nor may it ever. But as real as my need for a decaf starbuck's maple macchiato is on a daily basis... this is an issue weighing heavy in my heart.

So chalk another up to hormones (cause seriously... I don't even use syrup on pancakes cause I think the shit is N-A-S-T-Y NAAAAAAAAAAAAAASTY, and I'm guzzling these macchiatos like it's MY JOB) but I can't help but feel worried about Rhena, and excited about the new baby, then guilty for the stress it might cause Rhena, then even GUILTIER that I'm not more excited about this amazing new character about to enter Johnsonville. Add in the dose of Irish Catholic, and well... I just need another fucking macchiato.... plain and simple.