We are in the home stretch. My midwife comes over today with her assistant to do a game day wrap-up. Plan where the tub will go. Talk about where to put the 6 vinyl flannel-backed table cloths I was asked to buy (they are polka dotted, so that will add some needed levity to the proceedings, I think). All that jazz.
I think Will and I are both in a little bit of denial. I mean, we’ve dutifully done the big stuff. The kid has a bed and a freshly painted room. I got out the baby clothes. Bouncie seat is fully operational. And I also realize how going overboard with preparation isn’t really useful. I mean, I’m a walking [waddling] baby food maker, we own a washer and dryer, pizza is deliverable, and there is a Target 10 miles in each direction, so nothing is truly critical from a survival standpoint. But mentally, we need to so some meditation on the whole thing, I think.
Our coping strategies are different. Mine involves lists, busy work, and occasional outbursts. Will’s involves living on an alternate plane of reality. Me: “Susie (our midwife) is coming on Friday, remember? She’s bringing Cindy to go over last minute stuff. You’ve got to be home from work AT five. Ok?!” Will: “Uh, yeah. That should be fine. *mumble* *doesn’t look up from computer*” Me: “Should be fine?! SHOULD be fine?!? We are having a baby, for the love of all that’s holy! In a matter of weeks, too, you know. I’m not having a guy over to do a rug cleaning estimate, Will. A BABY, WILL!!” Will: (quiet but not blinking) “I will really, really be home at five.” So I’m pretty sure he’ll be here.
But still, even for my hysterics, I am working on remembering to let myself get excited to meet this little person. The due date can feel like the apocalypse (for me, anyways. I recognize that many moms go straight to the happy. But I have made peace with my slightly darker nature). And things are about to get crazy. But it’s a crazy to be cherished when possible, and one you grow a lot from even when cherishing isn’t available to you at that moment. So, little tummy baby, I am stressed and I wish my house was cleaner and my cupboards organized. I wish my dogs weren’t a nuisance and that your sister wasn’t going to wake you up constantly with her rap-remixes of Baa Baa Black Sheep. It would be great if I knew how I was going to manage driving with an infant in the car, or how I will keep the family fed those first few months. But all of that aside, welcome little one. We love you to the moon and we’ll be ready when you are, I promise.