No, the baby's room isn't ready. No, I don't have a hospital bag packed. No, I have not yet put together his little dresser (constructing dressers! It's my calling!) which means I haven't washed all his little clothes because I do not have anywhere to put them right now. No, I do not own diaper wipes.
Yes, I have a list of to-do's. Several of them. They have been consolidated, re-written, typed in outline form (As an aside, I love outlines with all my heart. I clearly remember the first outline I did, in sixth grade, for a paper I wrote about Bengal tigers. It was a transformative day. I do not care how lame this makes me. I will write an outline for you about how it's totally not lame.).
Yes, I spent an hour on DeLush this morning researching conditioner because I am out of my old conditioner and I want a new one. I can't have the baby judging my fly-aways.
I don't know what I'm waiting for. I don't know why I'm procrastinating. Maybe getting everything done, everything in order will somehow make it real, that getting all the "stuff" in order will signify that I'm ready to have the baby. Outwardly and physically, I do feel ready. Secretly, I'm still scared, still terrified of all the changes that are ahead of us. Our lives individually, and our life together, are about to change permanently and the truth is that I kind of like our life the way it is. I like being selfish and being able to go away at the last minute, to spend all afternoon in a bookstore, to try out a new restaurant on a whim.
I know, I know. Once the baby's here, we won't be able to picture life without him. Having a child is the best thing we'll ever do. You don't know what your heart is capable of until you have a child. I have heard all of these things, but these are only words spoken by other people until I'm actually living the reality of it.
Am I allowed to be scared and ready at the same time?
I realize that it doesn't require a fancy-ass degree to understand that this baby is coming whether I'm ready or not, whether I'm scared or not. And I vow, whether his crib is assembled, his clothes are washed, or we're making an emergency trip to Target for diaper wipes and, uh, 9000 other things we don't have, that I will be the very best mother I can be.
That's all I can do, right?
So, maybe I should get off my duff and get things in order if only for the sheer pleasure of being able to cross things off of my list(s). He's probably not in-utero right now, sighing petulantly, drumming his fingers, checking his watch and wondering how he ended up with such unprepared parents. My preparedness and his arrival are not closely linked, or even linked at all. My guess is that he'll come into the world whenever he pleases and maybe I should just get on with it. At the very least I can try to have good hair.