New. born.

That word is sending me into a tizzy. I will soon... have, once again, a... NEWBORN. Oh, the sweetness. The baby hair. The ever-so-soft skin. The cute tiny clothes and diapers. The little whimpers when they eat and fall asleep. Sleep smiles. Sweet snuggles. Gorgeous baby-ness.

There is also projectile poop, flailing reflex when laid on their back, the instant, full volume, heart pumping, hunger and gas screams.

I honestly can't think of a lot of things that worry me about the baby. What worries me... is me.
Last time, my boobs were the size of footballs, my back was that of a 100-year-old and my brain shut down during normal conversations and only understood talk about the baby. Every inch of me was altered. I left the life I thought I knew and stepped... NO, leaped... into the twilight zone. The zone where only eating and sleeping mattered. No fashion existed, no friendships were nourished, a clean house was a memory and no one could get in between me and my baby... unless i needed to take a shower/nap in the bath tub.

I became very scared right before I gave birth to Bella. When I say right before, I mean the instant the nurse told me I was going to be pushing soon. I didn't understand the moment, I was shaking from all the meds and I couldn't wrap my brain around me being a mother. Now, I would never trade it for ANYTHING. But that fear was strong.

This is not fear...yet. It's apprehension about the change. The girl I know as my only daughter will be affected. I don't want her life to change for the worse. We have so much to pay attention to already. She will potty train soon, I think. We need to wean her from the paci (oh, that is a fear). She is so curious and sponge-like to information and we need to be able to nourish her brain.
Will we be able to keep up our high standards? Are we going to be strong enough to handle the demand for as long as they are so demanding? I am trying to prepare. I need to read more about this subject but, I am still in the stage of wallowing in it.