Babies, Boots, and Parachutes

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.