lucky to have had these girls as roommates in australia-- who became my best of friends.
lucky that when you tell them, "i'm pregnant again" they say "ok, we will come to you!".
lucky to have spent four blissful days laughing, laying, and loving on each others babies.
lucky to have had them clean my house from top to bottom, with wide smiles saying, "now you are all ready for your new baby!" (as i dropped one off at the airport)
sometimes i feel like giving birth is no big deal. just a normal thing that every mother has done. it doesn't need to be thought about too much because our bodies were made for it. they will just take over.
other times it feels like a looming, life-changing event that my bags aren't even packed for. it could happen at any time in the next two weeks. and in the meantime, i'm over here just trying to figure out what to make for dinner.
to be able to say, "he's two" is jarring when it falls upon my own ears. but he is so very, very two.
true to the rumor, two year olds bring madness and delight wherever they go. they are enchanting angels sprinkling fairy dust and filling your heart to the brim one moment and quickly they morph into gremlins who, without question, need to eat all 10 popsicles at one time before their entire world implodes.
when we were expecting tripp, we chose to find out he was a boy. as first time parents, knowing the gender made the concept of parenthood tangible.
this time we have chosen not to find out the gender. this news is met with two reactions, "oh, i could never do that- it would kill me." or "good for you, old school - i like that!". there is also a small category of non believers who question me after every ultrasound, "so did you find out this time!?"
we have our guess, and as a team we say: boy.
now here we are, 37 weeks in, lazily debating names, a special doll, and blankets (because i'll be damned if number two doesn't get some of his/her own things. practicality has no place amongst these hormones). yet in all this indecisiveness, when i take a minute to stop and look around the nursery i find myself staring at the beginning of something i didn't intend to happen. i see raw wood, white, and silver mist. gentle light peeking through your tasseled curtains. i see your brothers sailboat mobile and it fills me to the brim knowing you will start and end your days looking at the same thing he did. i see you, baby, wrapped up in your muslim blanket with your sure to be chicken legs, jerkily moving about. it is a tranquil, gentle, and serene room. all of which is - inadvertently- our hopes for you.
it is ready for you, boy or girl, to join us and make us four.