It’s 10 days until we have our baby girl.  10 days until we all get to finally meet this little surprise and each of us can hug her.

It’s surreal to know that in 10 days, we get to meet our fourth and final baby…the one that will complete our perfectly imperfect family.

I would be totally lying if I wrote that the 8 months leading up to her arrival were filled with skipping on euphoric clouds and counting the colors in a rainbow.   While we were all thrilled…me, I was freaking out a tad bit.

What was I freaking out about?  How could I be freaking out when me, an infertile girl….was given a baby and finally able to experience the natural process of having a baby?  I know this all sounds very strange and I realize the risk of how it reads.  I don’t think what I experienced and my random thoughts were wrong or bad.  Here I was, months away from turning 40, with twin daughters that were 9 and a 6 year old son.  Our life is crazy busy with three kids in different sports, they’re in an academically aggressive school, and we’re always going in what often feels like 15 different directions.  What I was freaking out about what how was I going to balance it all, be everything that the baby needs and deserves from a mother and family.  I guess to be honest, I wanted to be everything to everyone….being and feeling subpar to my family and children wasn’t an option.

confession:  I’m type A and discovered that nasty gremlin that gave me a sense of security through controlling, planning and scheduling each hour in my days before I was married….had reared its ugly head and was back.   I had fallen back into that type A way of thinking when my family needed to have predictability and schedules to function with the sports, extracurricular activities and demanding homework.

Actually, scheduling is what helped my family and our world go round for that sense of predictability and security.  And here I was, about to juggle the demanding schedules in my family with a precious baby girl….I was worried I was going to fail.  And for me, failing isn’t an option.  I wanted to be supermom.  I didn’t want to take away from my girls that were entering the stage when they need guidance most, or my son that is often that third wheel with being the only boy and on the outside of the twin relationship.   I found myself creating a stack of self-help books in raising children on my bedside table.    Do you see a pattern here?  It all goes right back to wanting to be that perfect super mom.  That type of unrealistic mom that makes other mom’s always feel: in the shadow of, never reaches the bar, often goes to bed with massive guilt, gets bursts of anger when seeing social media posts from other mothers of blissful giggles…family gatherings without arguments, perfect clothes, adorable hair, effortless date nights, etc.   Every mom out there KNOWS that type of mom I’m writing about.

And here I was, with my kids beyond the demanding preschooler days and still trying to be that perfect Pinterest super mom that has goals of carpooling everyone’s kids, blissful playdates and daily art activities planned.  Inside, I was that mom that wanted to crawl into her closet…. to hide in my clothes ….just rocking back and forth in fetal position… while sobbing with snot rolling down my lips and crying…  How will I do it all?

Because the truth was….that’s exactly what I wanted to do.  I was in a full blown state of panic.

But instead of living and looking like the hot mess of a mother that I was feeling like…I stood up and took every moment I could to be with my first babies (my OG)  in savoring our time together.  I took time to just be present without panicking, anxiety and making endless lists.  That was the therapy I needed to ground myself in knowing I was going to get through it.

What I learned is that, present, is just the simple little 7 letter word to remind me that my babies are growing up fast.  That the days do pass faster than the hours and before I know it, our surprise baby girl will be starting school. I wasn’t going to waste time trying to be the super mom when all my kids will remember is a mom that embraced walking on crushed cheerios as a normal, unmade beds, forgiving myself when bad words become part of my horrible, no good, very bad day vocabulary, and the 20 different ways I could make a messy top-knot bun go with any occasion.

And the best part is, I am going to get through it.

~There are days I’m going to look like a hot mess but TOTALLY own that hot mess look (I’ve been in training for this look already).

~I’m going to fail more times than I can count.

~I’m going to make memories that will give us laughter over.

~I might just live in jogging pants for a few months….and likely have a pet name for each of those pants because we WILL become one.

~I’m going to embrace the imperfection of saying bad words, despite what I’ve taught against.

~I’ll probably use TV to babysit my kids, just to preserve my sanity from the arguing.

~Also be grateful for Stouffer’s frozen dinners to feed my family when I realize more than 2 nights of cereal just can’t cut it for a nutritional meal planning.

And I’m going to be just fine.  We all will be just fine….and happy.