I wish I could just insert a squeal right here instead of words sometimes! And if I could, I would...squeal, that is. It's really the only thing that I can think of to express how I'm feeling, little man. Why, you ask (or will ask once you hit that ohsoglorious toddlerhood age of why,why, why)? Well, I went to the doctor yesterday and she told me that I am a fingertip dilated, 50% effaced, and that your head is engaged. That is doctor-jargon for "you're getting ready to be born in the next few weeks!"
After that news, your dad and I were these anxious-excited little bundles of soon-to-be-parents. We spent time (finally) packing the hospital bag, talking about ways to speed up your arrival, and hanging out watching the US Open Men's final and Monday Night Football. Your dad is still convinced you're coming early, and while I hope you do, I'm trying not to get my hopes up too high.
As we get nearer and nearer the day, I have such mixed emotions. There are no words for the joy, excitement, anticipation, fear, and disbelief that I feel at any given moment. You are coming!! You're little hands and feet will soon be punching and kicking the air, and you will take your first breath. And you'll cry and I'll cry and probably just stare at you.
A whole new, unique, individual. A whole new heart beating in the world. A whole new love.
*SQUEAL!*
Love,
Mom
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