Tomorrow's the due date, yet arriving home from work today felt like most any other day of the last month. Baleen greeted me at the door, effervescent as ever, energized like little Shrimp Jr was back in 1986 for Margarine's return from school, except for the white belly poking out between the black top and pants and a hot meal in the oven.
Baleen says her body only feels the tiniest bit different, a little bit of pain here and there, but it could be another week of this (or more, don't tell Baleen). We've been told that births normally come at night. The source is long forgotten and we didn't bother to check it, but we've come to believe it. So each of the last two nights we've been thinking, tonight might be the night. Two nights ago, as I was preparing for my test, I was thinking, please don't come tonight, please don't come tonight. Last night, it was, come on out fkaBaxter, but maybe wait until I haven't had a few beers and I've had a full night's sleep so I can help your mom get you out.
That's tonight. I'm armed with a full night's sleep and a belly full of Baleen's pork deliciousness. It's called pork saltimsomething but I'm a little unsure how to spell that word in front of this wide audience so I'll spend my time reading the birth manual. It might be my last chance, though Baleen thinks we're going to make it through the weekend just the two of us. Still, I'm sleeping in my socks tonight just in case.
2 comments:
Why would you sleep in your socks? Sure you'll save 30 second when the moment comes, but you'll then have uncomfortable, stinky feet for what could be a long birthing process. I'd sleep sans socks.
I'm sleeping in goggles, too, to show that I won't be shedding any tears. Dry eyes, sweaty feet and a healthy mom and son. I'll take it.
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