Lately, I've been worrying. A lot.
I worry about Patrick, about the choices I make (we make) for him. I worry about myself and who I am becoming or have already become. I worry about life and if I can handle more children (I'd like 3). I worry about sleep and when I'll be able to get enough but then I worry when Patrick does sleep too long or too much. I worry about working full time and seeing my babe for 3 hours in the evening and for two days on the weekend. I worry he won't know me, although I know he does when I pick him up and he smiles so big. I worry he'll question Joc and my decision to conceive. I worry that I chose the wrong job change and I should have stuck to the bedside. I worry that I'll never be able to leave the job for fear of "sticking" my job on other people. I worry I'm not doing a good job at work. I worry I won't be able to maintain breastfeeding until Patrick is a year old. I worry that Joc and my marriage will erode from the energy it takes to raise a baby. I worry that I'll never get back to my fitness level I gave up with my pregnancy. I worry that I worry too damn much.
I was never a worrier before being a mom. I just rolled with life's ups and downs but not anymore. I'll still roll, I just worry while I roll.