This is our last post until ultrasound day. Apologies to all of our friends and family who look forward to the updates on Saturdays. I can only imagine what next week's post would look like. I imagine it would go something like this:
OMG! ULTRASOUND DAY! BOY OR GIRL OR BOY OR GIRL OR OMG BABY!! IS BABY OKAY IN THERE?! NERVES! FREAK OUT! PANIC!
Even I'm not that masochistic. So instead, I plan on spending the day with your nini. We will put together your crib and get your room in some sort of order and I will ignore my nerves about the ultrasound to the best of my ability. I will desperately cling to the last remaining shreds of sanity I have left.
I keep having the most horrible dreams. I know it's a normal side effect of all the raging hormones but they just don't help my mental state. Between losing either you or your father every night in a horrible dream I have to shake myself awake from... more waiting to know you're okay is driving me mad. How do people not spend 40 weeks in a sheer state of panic while pregnant?
I want to be one of those calm, relaxed pregnant ladies who just love being pregnant and the idea that they are growing another human. I really do.
Don't get me wrong, kid. I love you. I love that we made you. I love that you get to be a part of both me and our dude. I love that we get to spend the rest of our lives getting to know you.
The idea that I am your current housing unit and that I am ultimately responsible for bringing you safely into this world... the pressure is overwhelming. You are a person thing and I (ME! of all people!) am entrusted to be your mother.
Do you even know what this means?
Not only do we have to make it through another 20 weeks (20 WEEKS), I have to then remember to feed you and entertain you and teach you. I have to teach you to laugh and share and never to be a bully. I have to help mold you in a full-grown human who loves and treats people fairly and doesn't make your parents' lives miserable during the teenage years. (Karma. I know it's coming.) I have to help you with homework and make you stay in school and somehow support you, even when you make terrible decisions. I have to try to instill patience in you, when I have none myself. I have to fill you with a sense of self-worth and personal responsibility and, holy crap, I am barely there myself.
All of this and you're not even born yet.
I wonder if everyone has these hysterical fears or if other people just have their shit so together they know they are going to be awesome at making babies. I hate those people.
My complete incompetence to raise a child without serious bodily harm is probably best illustrated by this story:
At work, I have a phone charger to keep my phone plugged in while I'm working. For a few weeks now, every time I picked up my phone I would be shocked. For weeks. I never even bothered to contemplate why... just went on getting myself shocked. Just yesterday I happened to notice that there were multiple wires sticking out of the part that plugs in to my phone and threw it away. Who knows how long I would have to just allowed my fingers to be shocked without regard if I hadn't seen the wires?
WHO ALLOWED ME TO CREATE LIFE??
It looks like you're stuck with us and all of our shortcomings. And a ridiculous amount of love. And a promise to try our best not to let you get shocked or run into walls too much.
All of my love and numb fingers,