Sometimes I worry about what my stepson thinks and how he feels about his dad and I having a baby. I don’t know what, exactly, I think he thinks, but I always tend to imagine the worst. I mean, how awkward is it to be having a baby around the same time your stepson turns 20?! I try hard to not talk about the baby all the time when he’s around, even though it’s becoming increasingly difficult because my home life is consumed with baby stuff. I really just don’t want him to feel like he’s being replaced, or like he’s no longer important to me, because that’s totally not the case.
And then there are days like yesterday. The stepson was up for the weekend, as is our somewhat-usual every other week/every couple of weeks schedule, and helped the Mr take the twin bed down and then proceeded to help put the crib up. And helped me move it to where I wanted it. And then helped fix the fitted crib sheet that I was trying to get on the mattress, tucking it just so to make it look right. Little details that melt my heart and make me realize that I worry too much. Little details that show that he’s not as bothered by it as I think he is, and that maybe even he’s a little excited about a new sibling even though it’s certainly awkward.
The Little Mr’s nursery is slowly coming along, though far from complete. But, aside from my growing bump and the flutters and kicks, things are starting to feel a bit more real.