Sometime I will have the energy and motivation to share more than this, but for now, my days are filled with this.
Introducing Anson Joseph.
And life could not be more wonderful.
This is the way we think now.
It’s the 10th of February, which means tomorrow is the 11th of February and tomorrow, our daughter would have been 19 months old. And I bet she would have been excited about meeting her baby brother.
With her, this adventure would have been so different. Our yearning for a second child would be different, certainly. But our anticipation, the excitement of possibly completing our family, the boy-girl duo that would most certainly have been best friends and trouble makers for life… well, all that would have been awfully different if Hudson’s life hadn’t been so tragically short.
But without her, this adventure has been just that – an adventure. Not better or worse, but its own special thing. Bullet’s arrival the day after the day after tomorrow is an important event, regardless of his sister’s legacy. You might say we wanted him more because his sister left so soon, and you might say we’ve better appreciated this pregnancy because we know how tragically a pregnancy can end, but bottom line:
Bullet gets his own fanfare.
With just 2 full days left to face before his arrival, I have so many competing emotions that it is physically depleting. Or maybe that’s just 38 weeks and change of pregnancy making me so exhausted.
The day after the day after tomorrow, we will meet our son and begin getting to know him all over again, his life outside of the womb so much different than the life inside. We’ll see who he looks like. We’ll discover his quirks, and see first hand the expressions that accompany his vigorous movements. We’ll be aware of his presence in such a different way – kicks and squirms inside of me becoming cries and gurgles on the outside.
We’ll raise him to be the best of both of us, and we’ll celebrate him in ways big and small over the course of his lifetime. We’ll see new sides of each other – and we’ll fall in love with all these aspects of each other just as we’ve fallen in love over and over again in the time since we’ve known each other.
The adventure doesn’t stop at arrival, I know. There will be a day that I feel guilty for wanting to a break from Bullet. There will be tears of frustration and tears of joy and probably a few barn-burner fights between the Hubs and I. It won’t be all sunshine and roses and kittens. There will be poop.
Lots and lots of poop.
But the day after the day after tomorrow, “Life as we Know It” gives way to “Life as it Will Be with Bullet”, and I cannot wait for that life to begin.
Tomorrow marks 3 days to Bullet’s arrival. This is our last weekend of freedom, right?
We have wanted this for so long that it seems silly to talk about being child-free as anything close to “freedom”.
Every morning I wake up and I say to my husband, “Only XX more days!” or more recently, “This is our last Sunday without our baby!” to which the Hubs will respond “Basically only X more days” because of course today doesn’t count, it’s practically over.
This was our last weekend before Bullet, though, and there was (and is) much to do.
I packed my fabulous new Kate Spade diaper bag (thanks Hubby) with Baby’s necessities – a few outfits, socks, pjs, hats, those little gloves that protect them from clawing their faces.
I did one last load of baby laundry.
I did one last load of grown up laundry (way less cute).
We made an epic meal for Shiz Family Night and had my siblings over for dinner.
We got car seats installed in both of our vehicles.
We celebrated my niece’s 11th birthday.
I made whole wheat chocolate chip cookies.
We did one last trip to the grocery store, careful not to stock up on too many perishables.
And the highlight of my last weekend of baby-free-ness was a snowy maternity shoot with the lovely and talented Melissa McFadden. You may recall her excellent work from our first pregnancy, when she captured our eager anticipation of Baby Dub aka Big Sister Hudson in the glorious summer sunshine at Rooks Park. We’ve had almost a foot of snow in the past three days, so the boots we sported for this photoshoot were of the waterproof variety. But the fun was the same. The fun was soooo fun.
So much is the same as we face the last days before baby’s arrival. We are so excited to meet our son that we can hardly handle the tedium of these last child-free days. But we are a little more patient, too.
Only a little bit more patient though.
I do say, at least once a day, directed at my belly, “Come on out, baby!”
In 3, 2, 1…
This is a new phenomenon, folks. From time to time, I’ll notice that Bullet has a wicked case of the hiccups.
It’s not a new phenomenon as far as the pregnancies of the masses are concerned, but this is new for me. Hudson never had the hiccups – or if she did have them, it was early and before I could really tell what was going on in there.
Bullet, on the other hand, gets them at least a few times a week. And they are hilarious.
You can tell he’s not a fan of the hiccups. Rhythmic nudges in my belly signal that the bout has begun. Then Bullet will adjust his position, trying to allay himself of the discomfort. There is a break in the rhythm, like maybe he’s beaten them. He settles down. Then BAM. Hiccup.
I wonder if I can scare the hiccups out of him, but how are you supposed to scare a baby en utero? An enthusiastic “BOO!” doesn’t seem to do the trick, I feel weird about shoving at him, and there isn’t much I can introduce to his environment in the way of a surprise. Maybe I can jump in the air?
I should not be so amused by what is clearly a discomfort for my unborn son, but I just love any little development that gives me a sneak peek at his personality. He is clearly a man who enjoys his comforts and is irritated by interruptions to his peace and quiet. He takes after his father in this regard.
This pregnancy has been so similar to my pregnancy with Hudson that I’ve been really latching on to any differences I can identify. The disdain for cheese early on. The more aggressive movements (especially directed at my internal organs). And now, the hiccups.
As we enter the realm of the “single digits to Bullet” countdown, I’m certainly not taking for granted these bonding moments with my son. But I really can’t wait to see his facial expression the first time he’s fighting a case of the hiccups outside of me.
I’ll try to scare the hiccups out of him then.