38 weeks 4 days, T-1 day

A long post. A 2-for, even.

The day before our lives change forever…

Blueberry pancakes and bacon and coffee! Installing carseats! (An expletive inducing experience like you read about. I mean, who knew that all of those carseat installation stories were true!! Tools like an industrial winch and a PhD would have been helpful and Gregg required a couple of bandaids afterward, but it got done.)

Yesterday, aka the day before the day before our lives change forever, we bought a small pool that will help us and our guests with this Florida heat. Well, Gregg went and bought it with telephone guidance from me. It was during this mundane experience that I had a moment of profound clarity. First of all, we had to get the pool at Wally World, a place whose true name is a forbidden in our household, where we try to never go because it's soul sucking in so many ways including that there are way too many of our patients there. We do end up there about once a year to buy beach gear though, and it's always hard, even if we're only there for 15 minutes. It's hard because it is so overstimulating and so ugly, that it induces panic. I felt really bad that I had to send Gregg in there alone. So when one is in a panic, it's really hard to think straight. The pool options were overwhelming, even though we had prepared in advance. As we spoke on the phone, I could hear the rising anxiety in Gregg's voice. I could hear that the next thing that was going to happen was that Gregg was going to run out of there screaming and that I wouldn't have the stupid little pool I've desired for the past couple of weeks and now couldn't imagine going without this summer. And then it happened. Gregg said, "you know, if we want to go swimming we can just go to the springs!". These words rang out into the universe with a cinematic echo like you hear about, and I was just silent.

In this silence, what to me was the loudest silence I've ever heard, this is exactly what was happening in my brain: BONNGGGG!! Have we any idea what's about to happen to us? Just. go. to. the. springs. I don't think we're "just going" anywhere in the next few weeks. And on which day would you like to take our new babies? The 99 degree day or the 95 degree day? When they're 2 weeks old or 4 weeks? Maybe YOU can JUST GO SWIMMING, but I'll be here in my stupid wally world pool, babies safe and cool here at home until I'm comfortable taking them to the springs. Also, I have not been able to be outside comfortably in weeks. Also, I have only left our property once a week for the past 7 weeks. There is no question that I feel cooped up and am eager to get out to anywhere, but "just"?. I was in a state of complete amazement. JUST go swimming…ha!

I'm convinced that Gregg felt this in the silence because about 3 milliseconds thereafter, he pulled it together faster than ever, bought the dumb pool and came home. I paced around saying "just. go. swimming…just go swimming, ha! " for about 15 minutes before he arrived. Hugs all around, poor thing, spending so much time taking care of me and other stuff, no time to contemplate the potential shenanigans likely to ensue beginning like, tomorrow. Also, probably a dash of denial. He's a deal with it as it happens kind of guy for reals.

Of course we'll figure out how to go places with babies. I am not afraid. I just want to try to prepare for some ease and comfort for we caregivers in the first few weeks of what might be total chaos. If it's not total chaos, great! Plus, I just want to be outside for more than 5 minutes at a time.

So, what else is there to say on this day before the day of days?

A few years ago, we decided to raise chickens. Mostly we wanted their eggs but we were open to occasionally having one for dinner too. We started out with 26 birds and about 10 of them turned out to be roosters. A flock of 16 hens only needs 1-2 roosters around. So, as they reached the correct age and size for eating, we knew we had to act and cull the flock. We gathered our equipment and an experienced friend to show us how to slaughter a chicken and pluck it and stuff. We set the stage.

I was raised for about half of my life in a city and the other half in a sort of suburbia/tourist destinationy kind of place, so killing chickens seemed like a huge deal to me. So, being on the contemplative side I thought that the occasion of slaughtering one's first self-raised animals warranted words of some kind or another. A speech. So, as we all stood around the roosters chosen to be killed by our very hands and specially purchased instruments, I tried to think of something really awesome to say. Everyone was waiting. The silence was weighty.

I looked into the cage of victims and finally figured out what it was I should say. It was something that captured my complex internal feelings about the situation (a mixture of glee, guilt and something primal) perfectly. I took a deep breath, grimaced in my special way and said, "Well! Sorry dudes!". Deep, no? I was not prepared for the laughter.

Yeah, so here I am on the eve of the birth of our children. Is there a more poignant moment? A moment more worthy of weighty words and well thought out sentiments? Not to me there isn't. Not today anyway. I considered "sorry dudes", because I'm not sure we shouldn't apologize to the children we bring into this world, but it's not the sentiment I'm going for. It doesn't portray my joy or excitement at all.

So what do I say? How do I feel? It's indescribable really. I'm awestruck, nervous. Anxious, happy. I want to sing and dance and cry. Love. Joy. Terror. The roller coaster is cranking up the incline and tomorrow? Whoosh! Weeee!

The only phrases I can think to say are "holy sh*t" and "bon voyage!". There really should be a single word or phrase for all of this emotion. There probably is one of those do-it-yourself German words. The only English word I can think of is, "wow". How poetic. Whatever.

Anyway. Here we go. Away we go.

Wow.

Holy Sh*t.

Bon Voyage.