As I sit here, just a few short weeks (or less) from meeting our newest family member…
I think about the moment that I found out you were on your way. And the moment I told your dad- which ended up completely different from the fun way I had planned. And seeing you for the first time, our little Kidney Bean- that moment when it all hit me that we created you and you were on your way. That incredibly surreal moment that I realized a life was inside of me.
I think about the time- the moment– that you will decide that you’re on your way and wonder: when, how, where?! Oh what I would give to have a clue.
I think about the pain I could potentially experience during childbirth and hope upon hope that there are drugs strong enough to make it (and me) bearable.
I think about the blogs that I’ve read too many of, the ones that give way too much information about everything from child birth, to your body after baby, to the first few weeks. I think about the times your dad has threatened to shut down the internet for my sanity.
I think about all of the childbirth, breastfeeding, and parenting books I haven’t read that would (perhaps) prepare me for you. They’ll probably continue to collect dust on the end table and I’ll continue to struggle with the guilt of all the things “I don’t know because I haven’t read.” And yet, I’ve never been one to fit the mold. So… we’ll just write our own story, OK?
I think about the food I’ve eaten in the past few months- including the occasional (hehehe) treats- and hope that I didn’t do any damage. That I did enough good. I also wonder if you’re going to come out orange because of all of the carrots and pizza sauce you beg for each day.
I think about the cleaning that should probably take place before you come. And the never-ending messes that
may will overtake our house when you’re here. (We prefer to live in our house, kiddo- it’s no museum. I’m glad you come with low expectations, because right now Mom’s tired.)
I think about all of the pictures we have sitting on the floor instead of hanging on the walls. And the boxes of crap we’ve been meaning to go through to make room for you. I take comfort in knowing you start so small.
I think about all of the stuff we still “need” to somehow acquire before you come. You know, from all of the lists and books and advice we’ve been given. I mean seriously- how did people do it 50 years ago without all of this stuff?! (wink, wink)
I think about all of the things at work that still need to be figured out before I leave to care for you. And then I think about going back, already laden with guilt, wondering if I’ll ever be able to fairly balance it all.
I think about my clothes and wonder if they’ll seriously fit in a few more weeks. The rotation of “that still fits” is getting smaller and smaller.
I think about how much I dread the sleep that never seems to come easy or often enough. I lay down and everything races from my head to my toes. (I’m looking forward to your company!) And then I wonder how much sleep you’ll let me have when you get here and hope I somehow develop the ability to nap.
I think about the amount of love I already feel, knowing it’ll only get stronger- I mean, can a heart burst from this?
And as I sit here and type these thoughts, you keep kicking me in the ribs, jolting me back into reality. I know you love me. And you’re coming soon- ready or not!
I think about you as you grow older…
I hope you love people. That you aren’t so “hard” with your love. That you really care about people and are a kind soul. This world needs more love.
I hope you have a better sense of direction than me. It will make your life so.much.easier.
I hope you see beauty and entertainment in the little and simple things in your life. That you can entertain yourself and embrace your imagination and creativity.
I hope you remember that I’m on your team, not here to ruin your life. It takes most girls a long time to figure that out- me included.
I hope you’re able to make decisions that you will look back on and be proud of.
I hope you know that you’ll have to work hard to get things in life. Some people are lucky, but most are just not afraid to roll up their sleeves and dig in. The work is worth it.
I hope you surround yourself with people who truly and genuinely love you, who support you, who encourage you, and who lift you up. They’re out there, little one. Find them and love them back.
I hope you’re braver than I am. Your dad has broken my shell more times than I can count, and I’ve realized it can be fun to try new things (sometimes). Take some chances. And remember that it’s not the end of the world if you fail.
I hope you live a long, fulfilled life.
I hope you’re less of a spaz than your mom. Learn to take deep breaths and think about things before you let your knee-jerk reaction come out.
I hope you love to laugh. Especially at me.
I hope you see beyond the hype to be the skinniest and prettiest person in the world. Do your best to take care of the beautiful body you have and focus on the things that truly matter- like your heart.
I hope you remember that you’re just as human as the person next to her. And that we all screw up. Forgive people, but do not let people walk on you. Which also leads me to…
I hope you know the power of saying that you are sorry for something and meaning it. To sensitive people like your mom, “I’m Sorry” is a game changer.
I hope you realize how cool old people are. Get to know them and learn from them. Help them. It’s time spent that you’ll never regret.
I hope you make a difference. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the life of one person or a billion people. I want you to know that you have that kind of power.
And… I really hope you want me to wear matching tutus to the grocery store with you.
Seriously- Life is crazy.
In just a few short days, our whole world will be flipped upside-down. Everyone says, “it’s the hardest job you’ll ever love.” They tell us that we’ll get through it, a day- or perhaps just an hour– at a time. The truth is, every life is different and no one really ever knows. For now, Little One, keep growing and kicking and moving and I will do my best to keep feeding you Oreos and Spaghettios and frosting and peanut butter and all of the other things you relentlessly request. Soon enough you’ll be here and we’ll get to know one another and figure this whole thing out together.