Growing Pains

I hate change. Even when it's good change and I know great things will come from it, I still drag my feet in the mud and resist anything that is different from my normal.

I'm the girl who did the ugly cry the whole day (and night, and next day) of my brother's wedding because while I was happy for him, things would never be the same. I panic before vacations, even if all my friends or family are going, I get anxiety over leaving my little corner of the world. Even though I dreamed of having babies my whole life, I was mostly terrified and cried silently at my desk at work all day the day I found out I was pregnant with Jace.

Even though I know on the other side of growing pains, amazingness awaits, I still fear it. I hate the unknowns of the unknown.

And yet, change is inevitable and essential for growth. I love that my brother got married and I got a new sister and they ended up having 3 sweet babies. I loved experiencing different parts of the world with my favorite people. I love Jace. He's my whole world. If change never happened, I would have never been introduced to these amazing new parts of my life.

So, here we are, venturing into third trimester territory. I don't know if it's denial or just the busyness of having a toddler, but I am zero percent ready for #2. I don't even know what he needs, his nursery is in shambles, can someone tell me his name?! And since he has started doing acrobats under my ribs all day, I am becoming keenly aware that even he is changing. Just 7 months ago there was no visible evidence of his life inside my body aside from 2 pink lines on a stick. Now, he's the first thing you see when you see me. I feel him constantly: his stretches, his hiccups, his kicks-- things that just 7 months ago didn't exist.

It's all changing. And I'm scared. I'm scared this baby won't pick up Jace's awesome 12 hour a night sleep habit and will leave us sleep deprived for the next 18 years. I'm scared of being outnumbered by 2 on a daily basis. I'm scared that I'll never figure out how to leave the house with a toddler and a baby in a car seat. I'm scared I'll never shower again.

And, there's a part of me that's a little sad that Jace will no longer be our 'baby'. That he won't get all of our attention. That he might feel replaced or left out. That a new baby will mean less mommy time for him. That people will come over to ooh and aww over the new little guy and Jace will be overlooked. I'm scared that all this love I have for him won't be conveyed because my time and my attention will be divided. It leaves me breathless sometimes, thinking of Jace ever being sad about any of this. This change--this unknown--is a little earth shaking.

But then I have moments where I realize, I can't wait to meet this little guy, compare his eyes and smile to his brother's, breathe in his newborn scent and baby's breath. I can't wait to see Jace step into the new role of big brother. To watch him take on responsibility and leadership and add a new dimension to his character. To see the pride in his eyes and to watch the beginnings of a special, lifelong bond between brothers. To see Owen with his 2 boys and soak in the juxtaposition of my mountain man holding a tiny baby again. To see him beam over this new life and take extra care and softness and love in tending to an infant--our infant--which will inevitably make me fall even more in love with him.  To experience the contents of my heart multiply. To open myself up to more vulnerability and possibility and to discover parts of me that will remain dormant until seeing this one, new, precious face and finding out all the ways his soul tangles with mine.

So, while change has been my lifelong frenemy, I'm trying to reject the war that lives between either/or and reside in the peace that exists with both/and. I can be both terribly afraid and indescribably ecstatic to step into a new normal. Because with change comes an array of emotions and an unbounded potential for growth.

And as the patterns of my life have shown, on the other side of growing pains there's something beautiful that was always there--

it was just waiting for its chance to be discovered.