Yesterday morning at about 4:30, I felt it.
My hand was resting on the side of my belly, and I was trying to go back to sleep when three faint beats bumped my palm. Kid A’s kicking, it seems, is making its way to the outside.
Add that to our first (and probably last) daycare visit on Wednesday, and it got me thinking pretty seriously about the many things that are about to happen.
Who ever thought that we would be parents? We’re pretty capable adults, sure, but I don’t know how close to the top of the list we would be for someone to just turn around and hand us a kid (do they do that?) – yet here we are, 17 weeks away from meeting our son and doing our best to not royally screw him up. And perhaps we have friends and family who are scoffing at this statement, convinced instead that we will be fantastic parents and the somehow things will just come together. I don’t mean to sound like a negative Nancy; I too believe that things really will be (mostly) wonderful. It’s just…awe-inspiring to think about the implications of creating and shaping another life.
I’ve been reading pretty much whatever I can get my mouse to click on, blogs and articles from parents about best practices in terms of safety, health, etc. I’ve also read posts about the far more important question of who we will raise our son to be. There are so many variables today, questions of gender and identity and how to best raise your children to be centered and self-confident in their identity, and it can be overwhelming to dive into it all.
The thing is, I know who we are. I know what values we bring into our home and that above all else we already have so much love for this little boy that he will never be without. I can’t wait for him to discover – and show us – who he is. We’ll take the rest from there.