Today is the last day I will be a mom of all girls. The whole premise is rather bizarre. I can't believe that tomorrow at this time I'll have a son - and that he's going to be in our arms and joining our family so soon. At this point it's unfathomable what it will be like to walk into the house with him. I keep thinking of where we'll set him down first, remembering what it was like when we brought home each of the girls - how strange to see them there, a whole other person living separate from me, snuggled up in the carseat that consumes their tiny little body. I remember how strange the feeling was knowing they would never again be this theoretical entity, but forever a separate, independent person.
It has been a flurry of activity around here. We've gone to the post office, the bank, the bookstore - anything and everything we can think of to keep our minds off the ticking clock. Part of me is filled with nervous energy, fearful of the reality that is childbirth pain while at the same time so anxious to see this little soul with my own two eyes that I can hardly sit still. We're trying to get everything into place, imagining what we will need to make our lives easier those first days, and hoping that we haven't forgotten anything too terribly important. I did make the realization today that I've only gotten one of my favorite chamois crib sheets from Pottery Barn Kids - whoops! I might have to dig around and see if I at least have a backup sheet somewhere. (Those of you who are parents, especially breastfeeding ones, know how quickly sheets can get exploded on!)
So, that's that. Tomorrow morning we'll wake up very early to drop off the girls and then head to the hospital. My stomach is flip flopping just thinking of those first moments - filling out the little questionnaire, getting your bloodwork and IV put in, feeling the first contractions consume your body - changing very quickly from charming little constrictions of the abdominal muscles to the intense gnawing at your core, and the welcome visit from the anesthesiologist who brings a bittersweet mix of bee stings, popping pressure in the spine, and the release from pain as the meds slowly travel through the body. If history repeats itself, it will be only a short time after that when that primal force will transition our lives from pregnancy to parenthood once more. Each time it is no less amazing than the first, no less miraculous.
I hope I can sleep.
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