Waiting to cash in my reality check

A brief and random thing I’m thinking of today:

In my head, I think I know what life after Russ is born will look like, feel like, be like. I tend to find this place of comfort and trust and reassurance, and I think that perhaps, just maybe, this child will enter my life in a whisper and not in the actual shrieking cry that is far more likely to exist.

And then I realize that I haven’t got the slightest clue, because my head is still screwed on straight. And yes, I am unequivocally saying that all mothers are CRAZY, but in a really, really great way. Or maybe I’ve got it wrong, and it’s actually just that they’ve found a level of sanity that I can’t even understand yet – where everything that ever really mattered rises to the top and the rest fades into the background. And I’m just not “crazy” yet – or at least, not in that way. Nothing in my conscious being has been pulled apart, realigned, and glued back together in the amazingly crooked, beautiful, and completely insane way that a mother’s being is, once she meets her child. For the rest of my life, there will be whole new levels of mommy guilt, worry, concern, stress, worry, more concern, sympathy, joy, anger, anguish…it’s intense. And I’m just studying up for it at this point. This is the calm before the storm!

So I’m waiting to cash in my reality check until after Russ gets here, because until that day, there’s no real reality. Sure, I can feel him squirming around in there, and it’s probably my favorite part of the day – the mid-morning jumps when I drink hot decaf tea and he seems to enjoy the warmth, or the late evening stirring when he seems to be at his most active and I, at my most tired. But there are so many things that I won’t be able to quantify or explain for months, years, or decades to come. Such an overwhelming inventory of experiences that I just can’t even comprehend right now, except to know that I’m not always going to know the right answer, and that there WILL be days when all I really want is a nap and a margarita.

Somehow I know things are just going to be okay. I can do this. 132 days to go.

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