Aug. 21, 2013 at 9:44 AM ET
In all likelihood, this will be my last blog post before the baby is born. (I'll keep blogging afterwards as long as there's interest in my humored approach to raising a child.) But for now -- here's a peek inside my very cluttered and busy head.
It is with slightly borrowed time (I say borrowed because for some reason I feel like labor can literally begin any second now -- wait, no, false alarm, that was just a hunger pain) that I have the need to share my wide range of emotions this hour/this day/this week.
For months, my fear was always that stupid IV they give you at the hospital, whether you get the epidural or not. (Don't worry, I won't spend more than this sentence telling you that an IV is, without a doubt, the most terrifying, gut wrenching phobia I could ever imagine.) But in the last few days, that fear has shifted. While I was terrified of the whole birthing process, now I'm sort of terrified of life AFTER birth.
What happens in that first minute we walk through the front door of our apartment? How do we know what to do? Does she come with an instruction manual? When does she eat? When does she need a diaper change? How about a bath? Long sleeves? Onesie? Does she sleep in the crib or the bassinet? Is this diaper on backwards? What if she doesn't latch? What if she hates breast feeding? What if I can't click the car seat into the stroller? What if I don't swaddle her right? Is this a burp cloth or a diaper? Does this baby monitor work? Who clips her little fingernails? What's with the umbilical cord?
Truth be told, I know I'll figure it all out in due time, but in moments of solitude, when it's just me and a load of laundry or me and the picture frame montage I'm working on in the apartment, or me and the 17 bottles of Windex (can you say "NESTING"???), then all these prickly questions start seeping into my soul with reckless abandon.
Speaking of nesting -- it's not just something they tell you MIGHT happen. For me, it's something that has happened, is happening, and will seemingly continue to keep happening. I have washed every article of baby clothing (including all bibs, hats, towels, burp cloths, socks, sheets, blankets and bottles), I have organized every closet, reorganized the kitchen, put together the picture montage I described earlier and made about a dozen trips to Buy Buy Baby for little things I've forgotten. Steph thinks I'm a little nutty lately (and rightfully so). But apparently there's a correlation between proximity to your due date and nesting nuttiness. (Watch me have this baby today.)
The next time you hear from me in this space, we'll have a little bundle of wonder to introduce you to. Somehow between now and then, I'll go to the hospital, endure the IV, do a bunch of waiting, contracting, pushing, sweating, some cursing, crying and eventually, falling ... as in, falling madly and unconditionally in love with this baby girl.
My life's going to change this week. A new word will be added to my bio: "mom." It's a little word with huge responsibilities. Easy to spell, hard to live up to. It's a word you have to earn. I've said it millions and millions and millions of times growing up, but only now will I truly understand its value.
Am I scared? Yes. But as I always say ... fate loves the fearless.