The Last Days

It's such a strange feeling to know you're standing on the precipice of a truly life-changing event. It happens so rarely; even marriage wasn't that way for me. Marriage has been surprising in many ways, and I'm sure it will continue to surprise me, but it never felt life-changing; it was like coming home. I think the only time I can really compare this to is leaving for college. That feeling of leaving behind the only life you have ever known for something entirely unknown, knowing that you're about to meet people who will change your whole future and be central to who you are for the rest of your days. This is kind of like that, but exponentially bigger. 

I am kind of terrified of what's coming. What if something happens to you? What if something happens to me? What if we both make it through just fine, but daddy gets hit by a bus or something? What if I'm a terrible boy mom? What if I'm not a good enough mom for what you need? (Oh, my sweet boy, I pray every day that you do not inherit my crazy. I have enough "what ifs" to cover us both until the end of time. Maybe be a little less robotic than your dad, but oh please God, may you be spared my crazy.)

Selfishly, though, I am running head first (metaphorically, of course; I only waddle these days) toward the scary parts because I'm just so excited to meet you. I want to see who you look like and if your personality is as feisty and funny on the outside as it was on the inside. I want to snuggle you and snorfle your little neck. (I hope you're a snuggler, kiddo, because HOO BOY, there will be snuggles. Mama comes from a very large family of baby hogs, and they haven't had their mitts on a baby in years. You are EAGERLY anticipated to say the least.) Not going to lie, I'm pretty nervous about baths; we may let Nana roll with the first one -- she's a pro. Oh, also the nursing thing. I have concerns that the boobs won't work, but don't worry, we'll sort that out. I promise you won't go hungry. In short, other than sleep deprivation and unfathomable amounts of poop and laundry, I have no idea what to expect, and I really hope we don't eff things up. (I could probably start by working on the swearing thing.)

Mostly, I just want you to know how very loved you have been for your entire existence, even when you were just a robust little clump of cells:

And look how far we've come since then! You're measuring a whole 7 lbs (give or take a pound or so) now!

You know, I remember one night pretty early on, back when I was thoroughly convinced you were a girl, when I had some scary bleeding and ended up weeping with terror in the office bathroom. Rationally I knew it was very early and that taking you home was far from a guarantee, and I knew that we had frozen embryos and could try again, but it didn't matter. I wanted YOU. I didn't know you then like I do now or like we will once you're out and growing up before our eyes, but you have always been the one we were waiting for. I love you, sweet bear, and we can't WAIT to meet you. 

P.S. Can you do Mama a solid and take it easy on your way out? It would be much appreciated, bubs.