My current obsessive worries

I worry. I just do it, I don't plan to, and it just happens. Sometimes I get so anxious about things it makes me sick...and this is NOT one of those time (thank god)..but I do have a current obsession that is driving me nuts.

So I have this kid, this Tiny Man kid. The miracle child. I don't think a child on this earth has been more loved or touched more people. Okay, I'm exaggerating, but not much. Tiny Man is amazing. His story and his life really have touched an amazing number of people. And because of who he is and where he is in life, he really requires more care than the average kid.

I'm so worried about this baby...I"m worried that they will grow up feeling like they don't measure up to T.M....that they don't get as much attention. Or, worse, that I will overcompensate and they will be completely unmanageable because I'll be trying too hard .... trying to make everything equal, to make the next kid feel just as wanted, to make them feel special. Or worse yet, that I will expect too much, because they are "the normal kid" and they will resent T.M. and me.

Every time I do this to myself (worry excessively), the logical part of my brain always has a say in what is going on. Right now it's telling me that I'm being ridiculous, that every parent goes through this to some degree, and their second kid turns out just fine. But I can't stop thinking about how I am going to raise this kid to be normal.
Every week my worries manifest in a new way. This week it's double-duty: We are getting the babies room ready (finally), and I"m trying to finish the playlist.

Tiny Man's room is exactly what I wanted it to be. We had it finished months before he came home. It has a beautiful mural on the wall from my favorite children's book (The Little Prince). The baby has a crib and a dresser. The dresser is currently being put together by hubby. That's it. There are no decorations, and there is still crap laying all over because I am too damn tired to move any of it. We did get some things moved to the basement this weekend. I'm tempted to just open a dumpster and pitch the rest of it. (I know there is a box of my old journals in there, though, and the thought of them being disposed of in any way save a very thorough burning is terrifying. ) That room is nowhere near being ready for a baby.

Will the baby care? No. Do I care? Hell yes. I feel like at thirteen, this kid will pitch a rebellious fit because their room wasn't what Tiny Man's was when they were infants.

The playlist (a list of songs that I make just for this baby, as I made one for Ben), is a big deal for no one but me. But to me, it is a big deal. Music is so very important to me, and Ben's playlist is so special. I just don't have a lot of music set aside for this baby yet...maybe it will come after he/she is born, after I meet the new kid. But right now it bothers me that...well, that I don't feel as emotional about this pregnancy as I did for Tiny Man. I just got so fiercely attached to him when I was pregnant with him...I know that some of it was how protective I already felt...all the bad news, I just wanted him to get here so badly. I'm excited about this baby, but it's all different. I've already been pregnant once, and this time things are so easy (thank god!).

Ugh. I wish I could stop obsessing over this and just enjoy the end of my pregnancy! I know I'm not the first mom to feel this way about her second kid, but it's almost like a betrayal, like this kid will know somehow that things are different. Blah.