Tuesday, August 9, 2011
I remember this feeling. I’ve been here before. A little over three years ago in fact. All the scrambling to get ready for the new baby is done. A stash of meals is in the freezer, the nursery is as put together as it’s going to get, the blankie is knitted, the bag is packed. The only thing left to do is wait. And worry. I think this particular anxiety comes with knowing exactly when the new baby will arrive. If I wasn’t having a scheduled C-section, I’d be waddling around moaning and complaining (not that I’m not still doing that), and feeling like this ordeal will never end. But I know it will end. It will end less than two days from now.
I am thrilled at the prospect of meeting my baby girl, even as I’m a little weepy that today will be the last day that it’ll be just me and Sprout at home, the way it’s been for three years. I’m glad that soon I won’t be pregnant anymore, but I’m anxious about that whole cutting me open thing. I’m in love with the idea of having two kids, even as I worry about how in the world I’ll care for both of them. I’ve said here before that “bittersweet” is a term that must have been coined by a mother. Every milestone, every event, is just that, bittersweet.
The first thing I’m doing once I have this baby is sending out for Starbuck’s. Well, Molly made me swear that the very first thing will be to text her some photos. Roger that. Sending out photos, then coffee. The coffee though, just the thought of it, that’s really the prize that’s getting me through this. Well sure, the darling baby too. As for right now, there’s a little boy with a stack of matchbox cars who wants my attention, and just now, I’m more than happy to give it to him.