We are entering a phase where we can count the
time until our third daughter's arrival in days rather than weeks or
months. It is no less scary or daunting
this time around in many ways. Even
having done this twice before, I still lie awake wondering "How are we
going to do this?" The responsibility of this whole new life is
awe-filled and fraught with the seriousness of "getting this
right". Some have asked if we are
ready. I don't know. I don't know that we were ever ready with any
of the girls, or that one can ever truly be ready.
I've begun likening it to parachuting. You want to do it. You get on the plane with your kit
packed. You know it's almost time and
you get to the door and freeze. Are you
ready? Suddenly, you're not so
sure. Fortunately nature, much like the
military, has planned this moment out.
There is someone whose sole job is to place their aggressively-soled
boot squarely in your rear quarters and "help" you through the door. Wee #3 has been going through her warm up
paces. Several nights we have been
counting contractions and questioning "Now?" Her boots are small and not so rugged, but no
less insistent that really, I am not the boss here. When it's time, I will not be in the driver's
seat.
I take comfort in knowing that there are many
families who have taken the leap from two to three or more and are managing to
stay afloat emotionally, financially, and in terms of sanity. My paternal grandmother managed to do so with
seven children, five boys and two girls, and a twenty year span between oldest
and youngest. Surely we too can do this.
The consolation prize for still having this level
of worry and wonder the third time around is the many ways in which we are more
relaxed. With the first baby,
everything was matched and carefully color coordinated. The nursery was ready months in advance. The car seat was not only purchased but
installed by the end of the second trimester.
Nothing wrong with any of that.
Nothing at all. And I expect many
of my first-time expectant mom friends are in the same place. This time around we found ourselves needing
to replace many of the necessary items because of the span between our first
two and our last baby. Is this crib set
up? Nope. Do we have a coming home outfit? Nope. Are
the baby clothes washed in special detergent and carefully laid out in sizes
and seasonal need? Nope. Is my hospital bag packed? Nope.
Do we have a carseat? As of
yesterday, we do. With twenty days to
spare. All good.
Also somewhat rewarding is the sense of peace that
we have this time around knowing that there's no point in worrying about how
big the baby is. It isn't as though we
can do anything about it. I had one
night of angst and then put it away.
Meh...she'll be what she will be.
The doctor who ran the
ultrasound stated she had a "prominent nose". Heard it before. Didn't happen. Not going to let it get in the way of
enjoying the last weeks of being the mother of two. The first time around, I spent a month
pondering how a baby wearing the equivalent of nose glasses could possibly
capture my heart. Would I be able to see
past an enormous schnoz? Was I capable
of that kind of blind love? I'll never
know, because it didn't happen of course.
She was born with the tiniest little button nose and the most intense
blue-eyed gaze and we were of course so smitten that other than making sure she
HAD a nose, we couldn't tell you anything more about it.
So are we ready?
I guess it depends on the definition.
I still find myself thinking of things I promised myself I would do in
my forties when my two daughters were a certain age and realizing that these
plans are now at best, late forties. I
find myself planning our trip to Disney and then realizing that this has been
moved out a bit farther and my oldest will be a pre-teen when this
happens. I've counted how old I will be
when my youngest graduates high school and recognized that I will have a
college freshmen and a middle school student at the same time. These
all give me pause. But with two babies
to our credit, both growing into interesting and vastly different children, I
know that there is no way to really KNOW what kind of ride we are in for with
Wee #3. But our tickets are
purchased. The plane has left the ground
and we are at cruising altitude. The
boot is mere inches from our collective caboose.
Ready? We
will be.
