Freak out mode: engaged.

I’m scheduled to have a baby today. Here are some random thoughts in no particular order:

1. Crap, today is the last day that I can walk around with my belly hanging out every which way and it’s totally cool. In fact, it’s encouraged and adored. Tomorrow? It’s just loose flab that must remain covered at all times and tightened as soon as possible. I’m really going to miss you, big fat belly–and you, cute comfortable pregnant clothes. I wish we could be together always.

2. Not that I’ve been getting much sleep anyways the past several weeks but dang it–I could have been if I had tried harder. Now I am obligated to wake up, get out of bed, and pace the floor with a screaming newborn.

3. I am scared. So very, very scared.

4. Leaking milk everywhere. Ug. I forgot about that. I’ll be uncomfortable…and sticky…and all kinds of inappropriate. I hate nursing bras. I refuse. I’ll just stay at home for the next 4 months until my milk supply evens out a bit.

5. Sore, tender, um…parts. Night sweats. Acne. Hormones and mood swings. Unquenchable thirst. Unbelievable fatigue. A really temperamental digestive system. What have I done?

6. A sweet baby that I’m damn sure gonna let fall asleep in my arms as much as possible. Forget sleeping schedules. Forget baby wise. This might be the last time God lets me smell a sleeping newborn’s head and I’m gonna smell it, by cracky, every chance I get.

7. Oh my gosh you guys don’t even know. We have a little cradle but I doubt it’ll see much action. Ever.

8. And guess what else won’t see much action? That’s right–my vacuum cleaner, and my swifter, and my hair dryer. I’m going to let everything go to utter hell in a handbasket because I have a baby!

9. And the hand-painted onesies I made for her? Will be covered in spit up and I care not, because I made them just for her to wear all the time. For it is written: there is no shame in holding a fashion show for a week-old baby.

10. I can’t wait I can’t wait I can’t wait I can’t wait I can’t wait

To meet our new daughter.


About Toni

Mom. Wife. Artist. I take care of the kids and pretend to clean sometimes. I can cook spagetti and I have never been arrested. View all posts by Toni

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