My husband is adorable these days, constantly in a state of wonder and bliss.
He wanders into the baby's room to wash all of the new clothes, towels, blankets, hats, and tiny socks in preparation of the big arrival. As he piles it all into his arms, huge smile on his face, he grins and says "This is actually real. These are my baby's clothes. These don't belong to someone else. I'm having a baby." I am giddy watching it all sink in for him.
He practices our natural labor techniques with patience and perfectionism. He is so reassuring and calming during our "practice" labor that I don't want to stop practicing and make my "contractions" last just a little bit longer than they should.
This pregnancy hasn't been easy. I spent the first trimester on crutches or in a boot. I've been pretty uncomfortable and frustrated with the whole process, a much more selfish 37 years old compared to my last pregnancies, all in my twenties. I miss vodka, a lot, and daydream often about my first cosmopolitan.
But here with less than 3 weeks to go until our due date, I'm more sure than ever that this was the best decision I've made in a long time. Besides the one to marry my husband.
Soon we will be locking eyes over the first cries of our newborn son, a human being that our incredible love made. It will be a first for me.
And then our children will join us, the family he chose, and they will have a new brother, one they already adore and that joins us all together by blood and love.
Soon, so soon.