90 days

J just called me at work and my stomach is churning.  His boss informed him that he has 90 days to get his numbers up or else... (I can't bare to type the "or else" part).  J is the sales manager for a group of employees.  He has tried relentlessly for months to motivate them and J puts in longer and longer hours at work to encourage them and do his part.  I sit here at my desk with a growing baby in my belly.  A growing baby we wanted so desperately and worked for tirelessly over the past year and a half.  A growing baby that is a reminder of why I am so scared for the next 90 days.  J assures me that we are comfortable with our savings and could sustain a couple of months if the worst happened but I am terrified of things to get to that point.  I want to feel secure, like I have for the last 11 years.  I want to feel assured when I tuck my little girl in at night and lay on the sofa feeling my baby kick that everything we know will remain as is, that we will continue to live comfortably.  I haven't bawled my eyes out yet, but I let J know that I am scared.  I am scared.  I never thought this would be us.  I believe in my husband's abilities so much so that I never even considered it.

I need to step up my game and do everything I can around the house to provide him more time outside of his already long and grueling work day to focus on working more.  The more I get done around the house, the more he can get done when he gets home.  I've already felt our family life shrinking while his work takes over more and more.  Something tells me I have no clue what shrinking family life is really like but I will soon.

J assures me that he isn't worrying yet and I shouldn't either, but I am.  I have to.  As the Mother and the Wife that's my job. I believe in my heart that all will be okay. I will be strong for him.  I will be his rock.  I will do everything in my power to get us through this.

We will get through this.