Tomorrow!

Here it is- the day before the baby is set to arrive.

I was afraid I wasn't going to make it to tomorrow, and now I'm hoping I made the right decision by deciding to do this whole thing via elective induction.  What a modern luxury, getting to choose when your child will be born. Getting to make this decision based on a host of reasons other than medical necessity.  Getting to say, "I want my baby born on this day because it won't interrupt my schedule as much."  This is said with very little regard to the baby's schedule.  He may have had a whole day planned for tomorrow, a little hiccuping and kicking followed by an amniotic nap and an hour or so of brain development.  Perhaps tomorrow he was planning on developing that part of the brain that will allow him to understand algebra.  And now I'm screwing that up!

This kid was induced, and now he's failing Algebra.

Eh.  I still want to be induced, algebra be damned.  It's not like knowing math ever really got me anywhere, anyway.

So here we are, on June 20th.  Andy is enjoying his last day of day care.  I have to stop feeling sorry for my (almost) two year old and the fact that he'll be missing out on daily play time with his friends.  The amount of sorrow and grief I'm applying to the situation is bordering on the ridiculous.  With all of the hitting and biting that goes on in that place, I should be applauding myself for taking him out of an abusive system.  But- I still feel bad.  I just hope Andy doesn't get too restless at home with me and that I can somehow find enough to keep the poor kid busy.  Potential hobbies that I'm considering for him include staring at the baby, begging me to go outside, and watching endless loops of "Wheels on the Bus" You Tube videos.  This morning, while I got ready for the day, Andy must have watched fifteen different versions of "Wheels on the Bus," including a French version and an Arabic version and a version in which the bus driver loses his mind and drives the bus straight off the highway and directly into a tire fire.

I'm nervous for tomorrow.  You may or may not know this, but birthing a baby hurts.  A lot.  And the epidural does nothing during go time, since they pretty much turn it off so you can feel the contractions and know when to push.  It's like, thanks a lot, assholes.  Why don't you just punch me in the face a few times while you're at it?

My life changed forever on July 12, 2010, the day that I held my sweet Andrew for the first time ever.  It changed in all the ways I expected it to, and in many, mostly intangible, ways that I didn't.  And tomorrow it will change again.  But, with the second baby, are the changes just as huge and dramatic?  What am I supposed to expect?  I am actually less nervous going into tomorrow than I was the day before Andy was induced out.  I guess that's something.  But what I am nervous about is introducing my first born to my second born.  I am so hoping he reacts to the new baby as if it were a puppy.  A puppy to gently pet and give kisses to.  This is my best case scenario.  You don't want to hear my worst case scenario.  Imagine what you think might be my worst case scenario and then multiply it by five.  But don't ask my new baby to do that math, because we're taking him out before he understands how that works.

Anyway, here are a couple of things I'm going to do when I'm no longer pregnant, aside from hold my new baby and never sleep again.

• Retire my paltry pregnancy wardrobe, which at this point consists of three pairs of pants and three identical t-shirts, all with grease stains on the belly part due to my increasingly sloppy eating habits.  Hey, if you were pregnant, you'd probably balance your dinner directly on your tummy, too.  
• Drink a crap load of wine, eat pounds and pounds of nitrate-filled and listeria-tainted lunch meat, and devour as much sushi as I'm physically able to.
• Celebrate the immediate loss of acid reflux and about ten pounds.  Hopefully regain normal feeling in my legs during periods of laying on the couch or in bed. Very carefully, do a little dance.

That's about all I can think of at the moment.

So, wish me luck.  Hopefully everything goes smoothly as we welcome our new addition.  And hopefully this little bastard weighs less than Andy did.  I should be able to blog about the new baby when I have some free time available- maybe in five or six years.  Now excuse me while I enjoy my last day of freedom- no work, Andy at day care, and nothing but day time television and greasy snacks to rest atop my big old belly.