While you’re in a state of perpetual hiccuping in the womb, your mother and I have been busy doing a whole lot of nothing. We aren’t traveling to any exotic locations, we aren’t making reservations at fancy restaurants, we aren’t doing anything out of the ordinary. We have taken to heart what seems to be the universal advice about what to do in the days leading up to your arrival: enjoy our existing lives.
For us, that means sleeping from midnight to 8, having the occasional dinner at a friend’s house, binge watching TV shows (currently, Homeland), doing our own cleaning around the apartment, cutting Kili’s hair, walking Kili around the neighborhood, having Kili follow us around, and sitting down with a cup of homemade coffee at Cafe Lilo. It’s far from exciting, but that’s just who we are – introverted homebodies!
Although we are maintaining normalcy in terms of activities, my own state of mind has been an understandable mixture of excitement, nervousness, and fear. I liken the anticipation and experience of raising a child to a marathon. In the lead up to the actual race, it feels like everything (marrying your mother, saving money, making bad life choices) in recent days/months/years was preparation for your arrival so that I can provide support in the form of tangible needs or advice. With each passing day, the excitement and adrenaline just continues to build, so much so that I wish you’d just push the eject button inside your mom’s uterus already.
But I’m also conscious of what happens to one’s mental state in the midst of a marathon – the nervousness and fear sitting on the periphery of my mind of whether I will be able to do my best starts worming its way into my ball of excitement. More specifically, I wonder: am I going to guide you in the right way? Am I strong enough to make the unpopular decision if I need to? Am I going to be the best I can be for you?
I hope and believe the answer to all those questions is yes, but I know I am susceptible to moments of weakness or misjudgment. And in those moments, I trust your mother will come to my rescue just as I will for her (no one’s perfect, but she’s close!).
Despite those fears, I know I will continue to chug along and enjoy the experience as much as I can, but if I do ever hit the wall at mile 19 or so, then I want to ask in advance for your understanding and patience when things might not make sense to you. Your mother and I will probably be steeped in our own views and opinions, and although we might not get it right every time, I promise two things. First, whatever we say or do is always of the most loving intentions. And second, we will never give up when it comes to you.
In terms of completing marathons, I’m one for one and your mother is three for three. We’re both ready to start our next.