I'm going to have two sons. Two sons. That just sounds bizarre.

My pregnancy is progressing normally and overall I'm feeling okay. Sometimes. I'm right on the verge of my third trimester, so it's all downhill from here, until the horrible, horrible pain of labor and delivery will actually become preferable to my daily aches, pains and exhaustion. It seems hard to believe, but every pregnant woman I've talked to has reached that point.

My mental state regarding this second child thing is a little more precarious. I'm starting to freak out about having two children. I keep coming back to this thought of, "What have I done?" We're at a point where things with Ben are manageable and routine and we don't need to cart around a bunch of shit to take him places and he can talk well and tell us what he wants... And now we're just going to add in another crying, pooping blob who can't communicate and won't sleep. It's like, hey, we're getting pretty good at juggling these watermelons. Why don't we add in a chainsaw? Who's dumb idea was that?

And the idea of being able to love another child as much as I love Ben... especially another boy... seems unfathomable. I know this baby is a part of our family, because when I look into my future I see more than one child sitting around the dining room table. I want Ben to have a brother. But standing on the precipice of a four-person family and this time KNOWING how much work a newborn is going to be is terrifying.