Me, this morning, at 39 weeks pregnant.
I can't believe it. It is the last day of May 2013. In my brain, it's still about February and I still have months to go before I have to worry about pushing a little human out of my body and becoming a mother to him. In reality, next week is my due date and things are moving at light speed.
This is one of my last weeks where I am just me, a 25 year old girl who still feels to be about 18 and certainly does not act like an adult. I'm aware that I am actually a pretty helpless person. I have a lot of learning and growing to do. Honestly, I can barely even make mac and cheese by myself. Yes, things are certainly about to change, whether I am ready or not. I will be completely responsible for another life. A little soul that God has trusted us with. A little person that I know I will obsess over and worry about every day for the rest of my life. Our world is about to make a major shift. A shift that I am most definitely excited about, but there's so much unknown. I really don't know much about babies. All I have to go off of is just what I have been told. A lot of which sounds terrifying. "But so worth it." Right? That is the summary of what people say. It is SO HARD but so worth it. The so hard part is frightening. The so worth it part is why we got ourselves into this situation.
Someone told Cody that babies seem really fragile, but are actually easier to keep alive than fish. I sure hope so, because I have gone through a lot of pet fish in my lifetime. I know I will be ok. I know he will be ok. We will get through the tough parts. I'm pretty sure of this. I am known for my exceptional ability to worry like none other, so that is just how it is going to be. But I will try my best to relax and breath and be a chill mom as much as I can be. That is one of my goals, anyway.
So here is where I am right now, at 39 weeks pregnant: I am standing at the edge of the diving board, looking into a deep pool. I can't see the bottom. I can't turn around and climb down. The only way off is to jump. What will I find? From what I hear, probably a lot of poop. Literal poop. Exploding poop. And throw up. And crying, screaming babies. And sore boobies. And many, many sleepless nights and days filled with fatigue, and maybe even counting down the seconds until Cody gets home from work. This is the kind of thing you always hear about at this pool.
But I am going to jump. And through the poop, I am going to find soft baby cheeks, and tiny saggy baby bums, and chubby leg rolls, and little adorable lips that I will kiss so much. And giggles and cuddles and so many hugs and loves.
And it will be awesome.
And then, I will make sure that my baby grows up to not be so helpless, and by golly, he will know how to make mac n cheese!