Tomorrow our lives change.
It’s so odd, putting a fixed date and time to a lifetime event like this. My brain can’t quite comprehend it and I find myself seeking that whoa moment over and over again.
While I organized the kitchen today, I savored the quiet, trying to imagine our house with a newborn.
While I swept the floors, I tried to comprehend the fact that at this time tomorrow, I’ll be holding a newborn. My newborn. My little boy.
While at dinner with Luffy and my mom (a last meal of sorts, since it’s no more food for me until well after my surgery), I tried to picture our table with a car seat in a chair.
As I sit on the couch and type this, before heading to bed, I keep thinking to myself: Tomorrow I’ll be a mom. Tomorrow I’ll be a mom. Tomorrow he will be here.
Since I know exactly when I’m giving birth, I’ve been able to savor these last few days of pregnancy like many women don’t get the chance to. I’m not plagued by the feeling that my pregnancy will never end, so I’m appreciating the end much more. Every push and roll. Every case of the hiccups. Every stretch and nudge. I’m excited for the next phase and for all the years to come, but I’ll always cherish these months when I carried him so close to me and was able to provide for him and to keep him safe.
So many thoughts, swirling in my head. I hope tomorrow goes well. I hope the surgery goes smoothly and that my Little Dumpling arrives safely. I can’t believe it’s time. Just like I couldn’t believe those two little lines and now here we are. I can’t believe that by this time tomorrow, I’ll be holding him in my arms.