*insert a paragraph of ramblings about how in the world did September arrive already*
September: The month of the pitter patters.
I suppose we have reached the infamous waiting game point of pregnancy. I am generally not very good at the waiting game, but I think it will be worth it this time. I am doing my very best to just rest in the fact that our little mister will come on the day he is supposed to come. It is surprisingly comforting to only let myself dwell on the thought that God already knows the kpluBlet's birthday. Down to the very second. It isn't something I need to worry about or be anxious about; the birth day is already ideally set and we just have to wait for the surprise party announcement. Yep, it may sound a bit cheesy, but sometimes the truth is in the [smoked gouda] cheese. Or... something.
With the days ticking down until the Big Day [which sadly did not happen on Labor Day, as awesome as that would have been... (we clearly did not plan this correctly)], we have been going over the "Are we ready for him?" checklist. One of the last remaining to-do's is pack the bag we'll be bringing with us to the birth center. I have read multiple lists of expert-recommended items to include in this important bag. I have read more than a few "Here is what been-there-done-that moms highly suggest you remember to bring" lists. I have gone over the list of things that the birth center thinks are vital to a good birthing experience. So, thus armed, one would think that packing this seemingly critical-to-all-of-humanity bag would be a piece of cake, something we could whip up in an hour or so and then sit back on the couch completely confident that we are ready for this baby.
But no. That is apparently not how we roll.
I like to think that our procrastination with this last task is actually going to encourage the arrival of the kpluBlet. You know how it sometimes goes: When you're least prepared, it's go time. So if we have absolutely nothing inside of our duffel bag, then... the little guy should show up out of the blue, no? I'm not sure if this plan will be entirely effective as we do have most of the bag's potential contents strewn about the apartment, so packing it all up shouldn't be too much of a hassle, and perhaps the kpluBlet is on to us and won't fall for the fake procrastination. Hm... He may already be wearing his tiny smartie pants.
As this may very well be the last post I write before I become officially momma-fied, I suppose now is as good a time as any to reflect on what it has been like growing a person. It is a little weird how normal it has felt for the majority of the time. I am sure a lot of the normalcy can be attributed to how symptom-free this pregnancy has been, but I also think it has felt so normal simply because it is so normal.
I used to think the craziest thing a person's body could do was see underwater or form the chasm that is a bellybutton [a runner up in the crazy category would be how, no matter how hard I stare at and command them, the three middle toes on my feet refuse to move independently of the big and little toes]. But now, the growing of this person inside of me has, by far, topped the list of remarkable. It is mind boggling and awe inspiring and... normal. Every single time I feel this round little butt jutting up and out of the top of my sometimes hilariously asymmetrical abdomen, I am amazed. Every time I can literally feel the outline of a tiny limb trying to shove its way out of my side, I become as excited as if it was the very first time. But at the same time, it feels completely normal.
A good comparison example would be when I rode a horse for the first time. It was something I had wanted to do for years upon years. It was new and exciting and the cause of a bit of apprehension. What if I wasn't good at it? What if something tragic happened? What if it didn't live up to my expectations for it? And yet... as soon as I was on top of Frosty, everything was just... right. And normal. and natural, and as exhilarating as I had ever imagined it to be.
And that is basically what being pregnant has been like. It somehow feels completely normal and natural and yet also has this ever-present element of "Whoa, this is the craziest, most miraculous thing ever." I can only imagine these feelings will be magnified by quite a few degrees when the kpluBlet finally comes out to meet us in person. Breathtakingly miraculous, yet wholly natural and normal and right. My brain cannot quite grasp how this works, but since when has it ever been able to fully fathom the complexities of God's design?
I cannot wait to hold my little buddy.
As this may very well be the last post I write before I become officially momma-fied, I suppose now is as good a time as any to reflect on what it has been like growing a person. It is a little weird how normal it has felt for the majority of the time. I am sure a lot of the normalcy can be attributed to how symptom-free this pregnancy has been, but I also think it has felt so normal simply because it is so normal.
I used to think the craziest thing a person's body could do was see underwater or form the chasm that is a bellybutton [a runner up in the crazy category would be how, no matter how hard I stare at and command them, the three middle toes on my feet refuse to move independently of the big and little toes]. But now, the growing of this person inside of me has, by far, topped the list of remarkable. It is mind boggling and awe inspiring and... normal. Every single time I feel this round little butt jutting up and out of the top of my sometimes hilariously asymmetrical abdomen, I am amazed. Every time I can literally feel the outline of a tiny limb trying to shove its way out of my side, I become as excited as if it was the very first time. But at the same time, it feels completely normal.
A good comparison example would be when I rode a horse for the first time. It was something I had wanted to do for years upon years. It was new and exciting and the cause of a bit of apprehension. What if I wasn't good at it? What if something tragic happened? What if it didn't live up to my expectations for it? And yet... as soon as I was on top of Frosty, everything was just... right. And normal. and natural, and as exhilarating as I had ever imagined it to be.
And that is basically what being pregnant has been like. It somehow feels completely normal and natural and yet also has this ever-present element of "Whoa, this is the craziest, most miraculous thing ever." I can only imagine these feelings will be magnified by quite a few degrees when the kpluBlet finally comes out to meet us in person. Breathtakingly miraculous, yet wholly natural and normal and right. My brain cannot quite grasp how this works, but since when has it ever been able to fully fathom the complexities of God's design?
I cannot wait to hold my little buddy.
Anyway, all baby-ness aside, September also marks the arrival of... FOOTBALL. May the nail biting and smack talking commence. [And no, college football does not count. Come on, son!] We have subscribed once again to NFL's Game Rewind and I think it would be absolutely fantastic to go into labor on a Monday, which is when Game Rewind allows us to watch Sunday's games, so I can labor to the background noise of grunting men in tight pants and the familiar sounds of Peyton's "Omaha!" We shall see.
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
If I could hold my breath until you arrive, I would. That is how excited I am by your closeness. We are so close to meeting face to face. I may as well warn you now: Your dad and I are nose kissers. Noses are just perfect places to kiss. So ready yourself, little one, your button nose will not escape. No amount of face crinkling will help you.
Thank you for being my little boy.
Come and greet us, little guy.
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
If I could hold my breath until you arrive, I would. That is how excited I am by your closeness. We are so close to meeting face to face. I may as well warn you now: Your dad and I are nose kissers. Noses are just perfect places to kiss. So ready yourself, little one, your button nose will not escape. No amount of face crinkling will help you.
Thank you for being my little boy.
Come and greet us, little guy.
 |
| Why, no, this is not at all how I picture the kpluBlet... Of course not... That would be... ridiculous. |
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