Are you ever truly ready to have a baby?

Today is C-section day—please send good-delivery vibes my way.

People have been asking if I'm ready to have the baby. "Nope!" I answer, cheerfully. Because while on a practical level I am, I'm not totally there mentally or psychically.

Luckily, I've had a great pregnancy, indigestion, leg cramps and uncontrollable potato salad cravings aside. I finished up the nursery last week. Signed up for the newborn cord blood registry. Got the breast pump. Bought a bunch of baby clothes and gear, and lucked out with some nice hand-me-downs and gifts. Car seat is installed. Our kitchen reno is done, just in time. (I'll share about that after the baby arrives, as I'm still in recovery). Yet is anyone ever truly ready for any baby they have?

I remember, before Max was born, wondering how I would juggle my more-than-full-time job and a child. With Sabrina, I wondered how I would juggle two kids, including one with significant special needs. And now, I'm wondering how I'll be able to give Max and Sabrina the attention they each deserve and need.

A week ago, I took Max to visit a new speech therapist, because he is so intent on articulating words, the speech therapist at school is mostly focused on his speech app and otherwise he only gets one private session a week. I'll be committing to taking him weekly, and I'm not sure how that will go. As we walked from the car to the speech therapist's office, with me firmly gripping Max's elbow so he wouldn't trip over the uneven terrain, I pictured doing that as I carted a baby seat in the other hand and thought, How's that going to work?!

Thursday, I had to get on the phone with our insurance company for an appeal I made regarding their denial of speech sessions. I was grateful that it happened last week, before new-mom mush brain sets in. How am I going to keep on to of all the insurance claims for Max? Do the speech exercises? Help him and Sabrina with homework? Fill out all the forms for school and otherwise? Do activities with the kids, together and apart? And, come to think of it, how will I remember to water the plants and take care of the bazillion other to-dos in my life? How how how how how?

I've been giving myself pep talks. Somehow, I will somehow handle it, as I've handled everything that's come my way and as countless women before me have juggled three kids and more. And I also won't always be able handle it all, and life will go on.

I will likely be a lot more tired for the indefinite future. I may be more stressed. But there's one thing I'm counting on: When they hand me that little wrapped bundle in the delivery room, everything will be OK.