Well, this is certainly a change from my ABNFF posts, but I am sure baby P will work it's way into my next A Beautiful Night for Football story.
It is hard to believe that it's been two years since our first child was born. Two years this September 5th to be exact.
I find myself nervous for different reasons the second time around. Sometimes knowing what you are in for is harder than not knowing. On one hand, we are older and wiser and have some clue as to what we are doing this time. On the other, we have no idea what it's like to have two children in toe.
I was telling my wife the other day, that I forget how to make bottles. She laughed and admitted she forgets so many of those little things too. Then I was in the grocery store the other day and happened to pass some baby formula. It looked all too familiar, but I couldn't tell you which ones we used? Was it that long ago? Not really, but it seems like it. Luckily, we have a few months before we have to worry about what formula to buy.
It is a little scary starting over. Our almost two year-old has been in a big girl bed for a few months now, we are starting the fun process of potty training, and she has been sleeping through the night forever (aside from night terrors every once in awhile and sore teeth). I hardly remember her crawling or not talking either.
She is a typical little girl already. Loves to talk on the phone and carry a purse and talk on her princess phone. Our house is filled with pinks and purples and so many other girly things like dolls and pink tables and chairs and pink umbrellas and rain coats and boots. We certainly need a boy to ballance things out, but of course, healthy is most important.
When I stared writing down these thoughts, my wife and I were in a birthing room that I swear was the same one Emma was born in. My wife all strapped in and wired for sound as they monitored momma and baby for an hour before they sent us home to wait some more.
Mostly, I just sat and watched the heart monitor and the odd contractions and the patterns heart rates and baby kicking and contractions all produced on the little piece of paper that started to make it's way to the floor.
Bump. Bump. Thump. Thump. Bdump. Bdump.
My wife was suffering from a self induced headache from a whack on the basement ceiling, so she asked the nurse to turn the sounds off on the baby monitor. I continued to watch the mute screen still on and off as I wrote down these thoughts.
It's exciting that we are back at this point again. It is all familiar, but still new at the same time. This time though, tere is someone else patiently awaiting the babies arrival. Not that a two year old totally grasps the concept of becoming a big sister, but I know my wife and I were looking forward to seeing Emma with her new little sibling. We already knew from her reaction to other peoples babies, that she already had that motherly instict. There would surely be a little jealousy, but in the end, we knew this would an exciting time for her too.
The last contraction was 50. 30 is the average. I am not sure what any of that means, but it's like a song sheet with the tempo going out of control every once in awhile. By the time our first was born, we knew what all the contraptions and gadgets were for and what everything meant. I couldn't tell you much about what we learned the first time around. I knew it would come back to me tomorrow when I sat for hours upoon hours awaiting the arrival of our little one.
I know I wanted to make a list so I would remember all the things I wish I would have done before or brought with me to the hospital, but like everything else, I forgot about that until just now. The main thing, and most important, that I remembered was to get lots of sleep the nights prior to birth. I hadn't slept in 48 hours by the time Emma was born, so needless to say I was exhausted! I had the bright idea of entering a 3 day labor day weekend novel writing contest. The story was about becoming a daddy, and quite fittingly, my wife went into labor on labor day and the story was left unfinished. In the end, it just wouldn't have been as strong a story without the ending consisting of the little gaffer entering this world.
It's like learning to ride a bike all over again. Although what am I talking about. I am not the one giving birth. The thought of sleepless nights and feedings every so many hours. Boiling bottles and soothers and vibrating chairs and jumpy swings in the doorway. Eat. Poop. Sleep. Poop. Sleep. Eat. .... I know like the first time around, it will all come back to us quickly and we'll be in a routine by the time I go back to work. I only hope what we learned the first time around, will make the second time go smoothly.
There is something very special about the second too that makes it equally as thrilling as the first. At least for us anyway. That is the fact that we know this is the last pregnancy. The last birth. The last time we will be parents of a little being. Little toes. Little fingers. Little sounds. The last time we'll see first crawls and first steps.
I find myself thinking about how I need to cherish every single moment that I may not have cherished before. Even early morning feeding, because when the first three months are over and the baby is sleeping through the night and it all starts to get easier and easier (not that I know how easy or hard it's going to get because our other child is only 2), I have to remind myself that this is it. This will all be over sooner than I know it, and when the time is gone, although part of me will enjoy sleeping again and not walking around like a zombie and poopy diapers, I know a part of me will be sad that it is all over. Sad when my baby is walking and talking with a cute little personalitiy of it's own, and the googoo and gaga's will just be distance sounds that seem so long ago. You can record them and take pictures and video tape them, but you can never duplicate the moment or the true feelings those moments brought.
It's 12:42. I have come and gone back to writing this a few times this morning. We will be leaving soon. We are to be at the hospital by 2pm. I'll bring my laptop and possibly do some more writing, but my next post may actually be after birth. We'll see how the day plays out anyway. I don't know that they have wi-fi at the hospital? Probably a good thing if they don't. It's actually nice to write in a journal from time to time, instead of at a computer screen.
Wish us luck. Boy or girl? Leave a comment and let us know what you think. And baby names .... any ideas? We have pondered Abigail, Grace, Cole, and we actually threw in Finn. It's kind of different, but I don't know about that one. I like Ethan, but I haven't been able to convince my wife of that one. Names are hard!
Some of you already know what we are having. I'd like to know who knows. :) Not that I mind. I just didn't want to know myself. It's weird knowing that so many of you know the sex, and I am left in the dark. I think it's a girl, but time will tell. :)
Cheers,
Larry.
