Your Dad and I just got back from his birthday trip to Canmore, also known as our Babymoon! More on that on the blog on Tuesday. You behaved pretty well. To be honest, with the luck I’ve had this year, I kind of thought you might throw a spanner into our trip, but you did well. Thanks baby!
One of the questions people are asking us a lot lately is, “are you ready?” Most people, when they ask this, are actually asking about all the stuff. I mean, we’re 33 weeks pregnant, so it’s a fair question. Do we have the crib? Yes. Do we have clothes for you? Yes. Do we have the stroller? Yes, thanks to a super generous colleague. Our one outlier is the car seat, but we’re going to get that next weekend.
The more interesting question, I think, is are we ready to be parents?
Are parents ever ready? I highly doubt it. I mean, am I ready to hop into a car that’s speeding down a hill in gear? Unlikely, but we’ll figure it out. Fun fact: we don’t really have an option, at this stage. You’re more than 75% ‘cooked’. That, in itself, is a terrifying fact.
I don’t feel ready for the sleepless nights. I’ve never done well without sleep, but as soon as I finish work, I plan to nap and sleep in as much as humanly possibly. I figure, once you arrive, my body will just have to learn to deal with the lack of sleep. And then there’s the magical benefits of coffee.
I don’t feel super prepared for what to do when you cry and cry and cry, even though we’ll have changed you, fed you, burped you, etc. You’re going to throw us curve balls that I can’t even imagine or prepare for, so that is quite daunting.
I do NOT feel prepared for labour, other than to know that it will likely be the most physically painful day of my life. I keep my spirits up in knowing that a) I have no option and b) my body was made to do this. That said, labour sounds terrifying. I actually woke up crying last night, having had a dream that I needed to have an emergency c-section. You’re still in the breach position, so who knows how that is going to resolve itself. I’d like to think you’re just biding your time until you flip around, but the other options as to how they move you, or don’t, are a little terrifying.
I’m aware, to a certain degree, about how much is about to change. Our home lives, our work lives, our love lives and our priorities are going to take an epic left turn. It’s not a bad thing, just a major adjustment.
I feel ready to care and love for someone else. I feel ready to make the space in my heart for another human being, though I hear the space makes itself! I feel ready to add to my family. I am ready to hold you, curled up small, against my chest and just be with you. I am ready and excited to share some of what I’ve learned in life with you, little one, though I know it’s a ways off. I suppose you’ve got to get some basic skills in first, like walking, talking and reading. We’ll get to the major life lessons in time.
Are your Dad and I collectively ready? I’d say that we’ve worked extremely hard over the last few years to figure ourselves out as a couple. Long distance is no joke, but it sure teaches you how to communicate with one another. As a result, if we fight, we resolve it quickly and thoughtfully. We have traveled together, and know when to give the other space – a characteristic I think will be key when we’re each sleep deprived and grumpy. We know what the other person needs to feel appreciated, so my hope is that we continue to do these smalls things for the other, even when we’re zombies. I don’t think we judge one another and I think we are fairly good at teamwork. Are we going to care for this baby and do things differently to the other person? Sure, but my hope is that we let the other parent find their own groove. Hey, if he’s changing your diaper, should I care if he does it differently to how I would? I might… but I hope that I just appreciate that he’s doing it and not me!
Am I ready?
Again, are you ever really ready to be a parent? But, as Lemony Snicket would say, “If we wait until we are ready, we’ll be waiting for the rest of our lives.”
I’d rather take the leap. I will if you will, baby.
- You are the size of a durian fruit. AND… I know what that is! Your Dad and I saw loads of them in Southeast Asia.
- You’re 4.2-5.8 lbs. You are getting big! Makes sense. As I understand it, full term starts from 37 weeks, so you should reach your fighting weight by that point.
- You like to rhythmically kick me in the bladder. Like a heartbeat. Thanks for that.
- I am back to my 8 p.m. bed time. For a while we’d extended it to 9 p.m., but apparently that was short lived.
- As mentioned, you’re in the breach position. I’m really hoping that you decide to turn around soon. One friend told me about how they turned her baby… and it does NOT sound like the kind of thing I’d like to experience. No thank you.
- I’m certain you’re a girl. I don’t know why. I just am. This could all change next week, but I feel very strongly that I have an adorable baby girl inside of me. Dad still thinks you’re a boy. We will love you no matter what you are or choose to be.