I am completely terrified of some things in my life and paradoxically totally excited and jazzed. Like you. I am petrified of you and at once cannot wait for your arrival. We found out last week that you are most likely a boy and even if your father chides me in his very practical “It was a 50-50 shot!” sort of way, I know and you will know that I always knew you were a boy. It’ll be our secret.
All the same, your impending arrival terrifies and excites me to no end. Your name (which we’re not sharing with anyone until your arrival) terrifies me - because what if you don’t like it? What if you end up in therapy because you got stuck with a bum name? It also touches and thrills me, the fact we’re going to be able to give you a name that you will grow into and become a part of, in many ways. Your grandmother (my mother) and great-grandmother are conspiring now to come up with your Chinese name and so even that will be a surprise to us in some ways and a way to keep you connected with your family and culture from the moment you arrive in this world. I am so very excited for you to meet our family. Your father and I talk so much about what you will call my mother, his mother, my grandmother, his grandmother - and all I have to say is thank goodness you’re going to be half-Chinese, because that takes care of a lot of the honorific naming issues right there.
Last weekend I was in Washington, DC, our nation’s capital, at a conference when in the hotel room on Saturday night - Saturday the 11th, I rolled over a bit on my belly and noticed a thumping inside. I sat up, thinking at first that maybe something I’d eaten that night - yummy Lebanese food from a nearby restaurant - was to blame. I laid on my back, leaned up against the pillows and my breath caught when I pressed my hand against my belly and my uterus. You pushed back. I pressed again, and I felt you push back from the inside as well as the outside, against my hand. I marveled at our interactivity and was unable to sleep afterward. Ever since then, every day since then, we have had a little play time every now and again. You kicked me quite a bit when I sat down on a bench in the metro in DC, resting my legs and back, and leaned forward too much for your liking. “Sit up!” you seemed to indicate with your kicking. I rolled over onto my belly one time and felt a prompt thumping from the inside out that let me know you disapproved as well. I ate a fig newton early one morning in an attempt to raise my blood sugar that had dipped a bit low and about ten minutes later, probably less, you thumped. I can’t tell if this means you like fig newtons or don’t.
This was exciting and petrifying at the same time - you’re sentient now. We saw you on an ultrasound machine when you were 7 weeks old, when you were 13 weeks old and then when you were 20 weeks old, and you are measuring on target so far - in fact at the last one, you measured in the 74th percentile for size. You are a big boy. I blame your father for this, as when you get older you’ll clearly see the height and size is definitely on the paternal end of things. I sense a lot of shelf-reaching and curtain-placing in the future for you, my man.
I am excited and terrified that you are a boy. “Josh,” I said to your father, “What do you do with a boy? How the hell do you wash a scrotum?” He rolled his eyes a little and smiled. “You’ll figure out the scrotum. It’s not difficult.” We talk about all of the things we want to do when you come into the world, including teaching you how to be a good person, hopefully by example. How to treat men and women, and how to love. We want to have a home free of hurtful racial and sexual stereotypes, and we want you to be open and feel free to love whomever you want to love and be the best person you can be. We wonder how we will help you pay for college, if you decide to go to college. We wonder and fear.
I am so excited and also completely petrified of your eventual departure from this nest of ours. Either way you come out, whether naturally or otherwise, it’s going to hurt. I wonder how strong I will be when the time comes and what I can and cannot handle. We are making lists of people we want to call and a grand to-do list of things we need to get done before you get here and we talked about that today - about how we’ll have to call Rebekah, who looks after Ava when we’re out of town, to see if on a moment’s notice she’ll be able to watch the dog. We talked about getting a phone card to use in the hospital if our cell phones won’t work there, and we talked about the taxi ride and about how I will not labor on an El train if at all humanly possible. Excited, and petrified.
I worry about a lot of things. I worry about whether or not I’m going to be a good mother to you, if my body, with its diabetic foibles, will be able to handle your nourishment, whether or not the decisions I make today will inevitably screw you up later. I see tv shows and think, “Would I do that as a mother?” I see moms and dads with their babies now and imagine us together. What will you look like? Will you sleep like your father (please, no) or sleep like me? I worry about being a good role model for you. I worry about everything.
Through all of this, I hope you know that despite our abject terror, we are so excited to see you. In four short months (and alien presence in my belly, please know that this is an excellent time to be on TIME. I am not an early person, and there’s no reason for you to make an appearance earlier, okay?) I get to see you face-to-face. You won’t need to kick me from the inside to get my attention. You’ve had it since day one.
It’s the weirdest thing. When I first found out I was pregnant with you, I didn’t feel an emotional attachment to you immediately. My body didn’t change a whole lot (other than areas getting sore where they ought not to be and the sensation of puking all the time) and you were microscopic. I remember wondering to myself when I was going to feel attached and emotionally bonded to you? I don’t know exactly when it happened - when I saw you at 13 weeks, 20 weeks, when I started wearing maternity clothes full time, when my belly started swelling beyond my chub, or when you became interactive, but I do know now that you and I, buddy, we’re a team. I am at once male and female because of you. I marvel in the miracle of pregnancy and life. And I can’t wait to see the end result of this long and arduous wait.
Love,
The one upon whose bladder you enjoy dancing, or one day, Mom.
- Josh made lunch (quesadillas) and afterward, we took Ava on a long walk along Lake Michigan - our apartment complex is, for all intents and purposes, right outside our front door. She had a lot of fun, as did we. Our goal is on Sundays to take a nice long walk together - and with the weather being as gorgeous as it is (hallelujah, Spring!) today was a perfect day for a stroll along Lake Michigan.