Tomorrow, it all changes. Again.
Tomorrow morning, we go to the hospital for the birth of TheSecondChild.
My writing muscles are weak and flabby from neglect and while I hope and plan to remedy that in the coming new year, that means I’m not going to be able to do an adequate job of capturing even a tenth of what’s going through my head right now.
All our preparations are complete – hospital room booked, last OB visit Wednesday, infant clothes and toys pulled from storage and washed, baby car seat (re-)installed, bags packed, checklists ready for last-minute morning things. TheChild will be at home with one of her teachers while we’re at the hospital. TheWife and I will have lots of assistance – TheSisterInLaw and Medley will be in the room with us, and NowThis will be standing by outside. We’ve packed books, music, snacks, DVDs, laptop, camera. We’ve been to this place before, done this thing, have the (stained, faded)
scars tee shirts.
Despite that experience, because of that experience, I’ve got a lot of nervous tension right now, T-10 hours and waiting. Wondering what’s going to be different this time around, hoping some things won’t be the same. Thinking about what color my son’s eyes might be, or if my second daughter will be as happy and as brilliant as the first. Wondering if there’s going to be another dreadful moment when the medical staff gets intent and purposeful and stops communicating with us because they’re too busy doing Really Important Things, right before your new baby leaves the room suddenly in the middle of a cloud of fast-moving medicos and the OB turns to you and looks very serious. Remembering first diapers and first feedings and first first first, and knowing that this time around there’s also going to be first meeting of the big sister, and wondering just how that relationship will shape up.
It all changes, again. Tomorrow.