Every little thing...

During the first few months of my pregnancy, I found myself saying, countless times, "It's going to be okay. It has to be okay," when I told people my news. The truth is, though, I didn't believe it. I went home and sobbed to my mom on the phone almost every night, and when she told me, "It's going to be okay," barely comprehensible through my sobs, I would say, "How? It's not going to be okay. There's no way it's going to be okay." I just couldn't imagine how all of the loose ends could be tied up to make a stable place for this baby to nest.

The other day, I was telling someone about how those first few months seem like ancient history now--how everything feels more than right. I was telling her about how I delight in the life growing inside me and how I dream about the great joy of being this baby's mom.

As I near the end of my pregnancy (about four weeks to go), those early feelings are back. I'm overwhelmed and panicked. I told myself, "We have time. We don't have to figure it out now." Now it's time, though. I'm scared to death of labor, of my first few weeks alone with her, and of figuring out how to parent as a team.

I know that "It's going to be okay. It has to be okay," but it's still a lot.

And, now, for my mantra since December: