Confusion

Hello, baby.

Right now, the only tier-1 family that exists is your mother and I. That's it. We have our routines, interact with a finite set of people, and live in a house with a family size of two. That's all we are capable of knowing-- what's real and what currently exists.

Somehow, due to a series of specific events, we created you. You have been gestating in your mom's womb for the last 39.5 weeks, so you do exist.

The thing that blows my mind is that in a few days, your existence of just being a moving bump in your mom's belly is going to change. In five days, you are actually going to occupy space in this world and physically bump the world population by one. Our family size will go from two to three in the blink of an eye. What we know of the world will change almost instantaneously.

I wonder what this actually feels like to you? Is the impact just as great to you? All you know of existence is a warm, cozy, dark environment with a few muffled voices every now and then. You probably get a sugar buzz every time your mom bites into a mint chocolate chip ice cream cone, but your environment hasn't changed all that much. I really want to know what it feels like to be born. I wish I remembered. Hopefully you will, and you can tell me once you learn how to speak.

You are going to change our lives forever. Life for your mom and I will never be the same.

I have no idea what to do, but I am a fast learner.

One Week To Go!

I can't believe that on Tuesday, your official arrival date will be one week away! The concept that the world population will increase by one human being is still foreign to me. I cannot even imagine what to expect and what's to come.

The feelings I'm having are:

Curiosity: I am curious to see what has been moving around so much in the womb.
Excitement: I am extremely excited and eager to be the best father and husband I can be. You are the means to that end.
Apprehension: I have been living a life without much care in the world. Financially and health, I've been pretty fortunate. I've really only had to worry about myself. In one week, my well-being will come in third place, followed by you and then your mother.
Anxiety: Giving birth isn't a small task. It's an ordeal... for you and especially your mother. I'm worried that I'll say or do the wrong thing. I'm worried that I won't be a good coach for your mom. Ultimately, I'm worried about the health and well-being of you and your mom during the traumatic birth process.
Bewilderment: I still haven't come to terms that I will have to care for you for the rest of my life... and this life-changing event will occur in one week. The house is still in dissary with kitchen remodel occuring right now. I still have to prep, prime and paint the kitchen. And we still don't have our living room furniture yet. Almost forgot that we'll be getting a new stove. It's crazy. I'm going nuts. I'm running amok.

Those are the electro-chemical occurances that are taking space in my neural net at the moment. I'm sure when I'm racing your mom to the hospital, a whole new set of emotions will take over.

We're not even packed for the hospital yet. Today is your mom's last day of work. I'm hoping that we can get packed tonight.

I hope you are not an early baby. Please stay in the womb until October 6. Thank you.

The Final Stretch

Hello again, baby.

This is the final stretch. In less than two weeks, you will no longer be 100% reliant on your host (your mother) to sustain your life. You'll actually have to do most of the work. It's probably been a nice, cozy environment for most of your tenure in the womb, but by now, you're probably getting pretty crowded in there. I'm sure you want out. There's so much more to do out here, anyway. I know you're going to love it.

Your mom and I visit your cousin, Ben, as much as we can. I can't believe how fast he's growing. He is so fun to watch and be around that I almost can't stand it. On a scale of 1 to 10, interacting with Ben hits around a 10. I could look at him smile all day long. He's not even my own child. After you're born, I'll either explode from excitement, or I'll never leave the house... or a combination of both. I'll probably end up sleeping in your crib with your mom and you.

Speaking of your mom... your poor mom! Most of the pregnancy has been a delight. She did have morning, afternoon and evening sickness for about six weeks, but after that, everything has been smooth sailing. In that last two weeks, though, your mom has been getting blurred vision and her ankles have been swelling pretty bad. It's probably due to pregnancy-induced high blood pressure, or it just might be because her poor heart is pumping so much blood, that it's being overloaded. The docs don't think it's a huge issue, but we are monitoring.

Your mom also wants to keep working as long as possible. She enjoys her career, and it's going to be a little tough for her to let it go. She loves her job and loves the people she works with. Many of them are her friends. It probably very hard... the last day of her work may end up being her last day of work ever. That's a big pill to swallow. Your mom doesn't like change, and this is quite a big one... not to mention the change of caring for a brand new human being. She's going to be a bit bombarded with change in the next few weeks and months. Who knows, though. Perhaps when you are old enough to go to school, she may want to work again, part time. It's up to her, and whatever she decides, I will fully support it.

The bad thing about your mom working as long as possible is logistics. Right now, she works in Livonia, which is approximately an hour away from home or the hospital. I can't imagine what would happen if her "bag of waters" (that is such a funny, midieval term) broke at 4:00pm when she's at Livonia. What happens if she goes into contractions while she's stuck in a gridlock of traffic on I-696? It's bad news. I don't even know if women can drive while having contractions. It's probably a scary thing. Last thing I want to happen is your mom to give birth to you on the shoulder of I-696. She'd be my ultimate hero, but I'd rather save the medals for something else. So, momma, if you're reading this, come home.

On the homestead, the kitchen is about 90% complete. The only thing left to install is the floor. The kitchen looks fabulous... beyond fabulous. I'm hoping that I can get the walls and ceilings cleaned, prepped and primed this weekend. The hardest part is the least physically-demanding part: choosing the color. I've been lobbying terra-cotta (clayish orange) for a while and I think that's what we're going with. It would be nice to actually get everything painted before the floor goes in, but that's wishful thinking. The floor goes in on Monday. Actually, floor installers probably don't like dealing with fresh paint because the paint is so soft that it can scuff when they're laying linoleum. So perhaps I'll just concentrate on prepping the walls and ceiling and getting a coat of primer down.

After kitchen is done, we should be getting our living room furniture in very shortly. I'm sure I'll be getting the call from Art Van that the furniture is ready for delivery when we're in the hospital. The ideal scenario will be if the furniture arrives when you mom is home, hopefully next week. We still need a rug and a plasma TV.

We're totally "nesting" right now in a manic way. I've lived in the house for eight years. It doesn't look anything like the house I originally moved into. There's not much else that needs upgrading in the house. Main bathroom is "OK". Perhaps that will be our next step. I'd really like to get the basement fixed up so we can make a small rec room downstairs. Probably a bar/rec room and a workout room.

Oh, one more thing... now that the kitchen is done we'll finally be able to start using our wedding shower gifts. They have sat in the basement for almost a year.

So much to do... so little time.