With not even two weeks--it's more like 11 days!! isn't that curvy belly amazing?!--remaining until Peanut is "scheduled" to arrive, I'm left wondering so much. What will life be like for Monica and me with a third person living with us? What color will his eyes be? What shall we name this little person, that he won't resent us at some time later in life for the one we choose? I oscillate between feelings of incredible excitement for his arrival, looking forward to knowing and caring for this little person, and some pangs of fear and a little sadness at what will--everything, by all accounts--not be the same. Also, as with most things with my lovely wife, the impending arrival of this child feels perfectly normal. "Of course we're going to be taking a trip to the hospital soon. Of course it's because we need for you, Monica, to squeeze a living, breathing human baby out of that thing that looks like a basketball under your shirt! Yes, of course. Perfectly normal," I tell myself.There is a photograph of my family sitting on a table in our living room here in Reno. It was taken by a family friend, Don Hoffman, a local photographer from Wadena, Minnesota, about the time I was a sophomore in college, or so. It's a nice portrait of all of us--my dad, Jamie; my mom, Sally; and my little sister, Caitlin; and I--we're all smiling real rather than camera smiles. I remember this clearly: sitting on the black velvet-covered box, laughing together, mostly at Don's wonderful way of making you laugh in order to find those real smiles. He just kept shooting, and showed us afterwards a small portfolio of images from which to choose. That photograph captures something, some truth, about my family that exists, of course, outside of the photograph, and lives in my memory, but I can't quite put my finger on it. It leaves me daily and sweetly reminded of my own childhood and youth--and wondering what kinds of lived experiences this little person we're about to welcome will recollect.
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Awww, my ol' softie husband. We're both a bit nostalgic, I admit. For the belly, which (hopefully) will soon deflate. For the ability to leap up and head out the door in approximately 10 seconds... which won't quite be possible soon, at least for awhile once this kid moves into the house. Not mourning. Not fear. Just: so what will it be like?
"Your life is really going to change. It'll never be the same! Heh heh heh." Loving people -- our people -- usually say this in a sweet, "isn't it remarkable?" kind of way... but random, bully people -- the bad people -- seem to be diabolically delighted to point this out to us. Enough. We get it. We feel it every day. It's actually exciting and fun to think about it when the commentary from strangers stops long enough to really be able to fathom it.
I am most surprised at what seems very private and fragile right now -- and what seems like it'll stay essentially the same, just with another partner in crime. Lingering in bed, coffee made but no one (meaning Colin) has gotten up to fetch it yet, enjoying that the phone hasn't rung yet, life hasn't ambushed yet... that seems so easy to imagine with a little man running in to jump on the bed. Hanging out, watching a Giants game, having friends over... easy to dream about him joining in the fun. Even the drama of labor doesn't seem too daunting compared to: Meeting him? It takes my breath away to imagine getting to actually look him in the eyes. I haven't EVER during this pregnancy been able to imagine a complete picture of his face. Can't wait to see his scrunchy, alien, newborn face. Naming him? That feels like the most private, intimate thing. We've had a short list for MONTHS. And it kills some of you that we won't tell you: get over it. But it seems so personal and private -- between us and him -- we run through the list and try different combinations and it's so sweet and so strange to think that he'll be here soon and take one on.
Man, listen to the two of us. We just need to meet this boy, don't you think? I've got three more days of work here... why am I lingering on the blog?!
We, too, can hardly wait and have thoroughly enjoyed observing the two of you get ready for the arrival of this little man. Our imaginations run wild.... what an amazing and wonderful adventure this is and will continue to be. Changes? Yes. More to love? Yes. Plenty of love to go around? You bet. XOX Grandma and Grandpa 2B B
Oh Col Col.
I love you.
And I love your Sentimental Side.
I always have.
Love yOur Sister.
It's been fun to be able to follow Peanut's development, and your keen interest and delight in all of it. The thought of meeting this new little person who is one half of each of you is exciting. Caitlin reported that the doctor told you today that she expects to see you at the hospital before your regular appointment next week--Yikes! This amazing miracle is about to happen!
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