March 21, 2007

A cavalcade of late-night emotions

It's midnight.

In five hours, I'll be checking into the hospital. Then, if all goes as planned, it is highly probably that my daughter will be born sometime tomorrow.

It's almost too much to comprehend.

I'm running the gamut of emotions right now.

I'm scared. Even though I trust medical technology and I'll sign up for all the drugs I can get, there will be parts of tomorrow that are going to hurt like hell.

I'm relieved. Once I cross the finish line of pregnancy, I can start the recovery process. Instead of feeling bigger and more tired each day, I can look forward to losing weight, watching my stretch marks fade, and rediscovering my ankles.

I'm excited. I'll finally meet this little person who has lived inside of me for nine months, who has taken shape in my imagination (and will probably look nothing like I imagined).

I'm a little sad. Not only is a chapter of my life (pregnancy) coming to an end, so is an entire volume. While I don't regret my decision, I've really enjoyed my time as a childless adult, and it's a bittersweet goodbye.

I'm nervous. Despite the classes, books, and Internet research, despite having a well-appointed nursery, a vibrating swing, and roughly 4,592 receiving blankets, I anticipate a moment will come when someone will hand me a baby, expect me to know what to do with it, and I will be revealed as a fraud. On the outside, I look like a well prepared mother. It's just a facade. Deep down, I'm just a frightened poser who happens to own a Diaper Genie.

I'm optimistic. Even though I don't feel like a competent mother yet, I know that Rasbaby is coming into this world rich with blessings. She has two parents who love each other and have made one another pretty consistently happy for almost a decade. She has grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles (well, one anyway), and cousins who are already bursting at the seams with love for her. She has friends everywhere - friends in Reno, in the Midwest, in places her parents have never even been, all of whom are wishing her well as she prepares to take her first breath.

I'm exhausted. I'm going to try to squeeze in a couple hours of sleep before my life changes forever.

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