A Few Brief Weeks

Last night I was sitting on the bed with Bode, he had just finished drinking the milk from my cereal bowl and was staring at me with his big brown goo-goo eyes. Bode has this way of looking at you with this expression that just says, "you're so pretty." There's a reason every girl that comes into our home falls in love with this furry rascal. But anyway, I was petting him and talking to him and I realized--in a few brief weeks I won't be doing that. In a few weeks Bode will be wondering what the heck in the world (a favorite phrase borrowed from one of my favorite five year olds) is going on. In eight weeks or less everything will change.

I have to admit I'm scared. Excited. But scared. I've never even held a brand new newborn, let alone diapered one or fed one. I know that no matter what happens--a natural birth or a c-section--I will not have experienced pain, adrenaline, and anxiety like that. It's all so new. We didn't end up taking birthing classes as our schedules conflicted with the only session our hospital offered. Part of me wishes that we could have and part of me thinks that maybe it's a good thing. There's enough for me to get wound up about and I tend to take information and run with it, rather than simply being informed.

As I'm writing this I'm getting ready to go see a hematologist because my blood work looked 'unusual'. On one level, I'm not worried and on a whole other level, I am. I don't really have enough information about what was unusual to be worried, but anytime a doctor is sending you to a specialist because they don't understand the results seems like an okay time to be at least a smidge concerned. I bring this up because it's these experiences and others that make me join the club of third trimester women who just want to have the baby and move on with life!

But there is this other part of me, a larger part of me, that wants to hold on to this for as long as possible. Not only because I feel and fear that I'm not ready, but because I love knowing that he's so safe and secure in there. There's no doubt about it that my son is strong and healthy, all of the tests and double-checking is to make sure that I'm okay. And I feel okay most of the time, so I'm pretty sure I'm fine. So I like having him all safe and contained. And where my body just does what it's supposed to do to take care of him. Maybe that's the most incredible part of being pregnant. I don't have to think about it. Sure, I have to make some safe and smart choices, but it's not up to me to think about growing his spleen, or transporting food through the umbilical cord. I don't have to feed him, change him, or rock him to sleep--it just happens inside of me. And when this is over...when he's born and joins the human race...I will have to meet his every need.

Thank God (literally, not figuratively or flippantly) I have Curtis. I have no idea how single moms or military moms do this alone. Curtis has been and will continue to be this wonderful rock. Sure, he's made his fair share of dumb remarks, as all husbands do, but for the most part, he's kept his yap shut when I've been crazy and supported me when I've been scared. He's helped me get the nursery ready and gone to as many appointments with me as he could so far. That bit is getting harder because of his new job--in fact, I'm going to the specialist alone today--but I know if he could, he would go with me. And I know he's going to be an incredible father. New, like me, and probably unsure, like me, but he'll be hands-on and excited and exactly what our son needs. I just know it.

So maybe I have to give myself the same credit. Curtis has no more experience with babies than I do really but I know he'll be great. Because he loves him, he'll figure it out. Because we both love him, and we love each other, we'll figure it out together.

And poor Bode...I know that eventually he'll be crazy about his little baby brother. I figure when our son starts eating cheerios and throwing food everywhere. But until then, I might need to find some little doggy ear plugs...and write myself a few reminders to throw him an extra treat every now and then. He's such a good boy and I'll miss our cuddles, even if I am upgrading to baby cuddles.