Ain’t no hiding it anymore: I’m knocked up. 15 weeks, to be specific.
I’m nothing if not honest, so I’ll have to admit that the timing came as a bit of a surprise to both of us, but we’re very happy and looking forward to cuddling our little boy in February.
I have all of these hopes for our son, and all of these fears.
I hope he’s healthy.
I hope he’s kind.
I hope he loves animals the way we do.
I hope he inherits Brandon’s calmness but my drive.
I hope he’s not an asshole. I mean, I know we’ll be contributing to that end result, but man, the last thing I would want to bring in this world is another asshole white guy.
Right now, he’s the size of an orange. I think the fruit metaphors are a little tired, so instead, let’s go with a large fist. He’s got fur all over him, so I’ve told Alice he looks more related to her than me right now. She stared at me.
My next mission in life, I think, is accepting that my missions might take a little longer than usual as of now. I can’t do everything I want to do all the time, and that will certainly get even more complicated when we have this new little amazing life to take care of. But I really look forward to bringing him on these missions and watching him create goals of his own.
Man, how apropos that all the things I would do before 30 would culminate in a new little human born right before the big 3-0.
So I may not find spiritual enlightenment. I’m guaranteed not to see a Wonder of the World or participate in a big cultural event before 30. I probably won’t do a cross-country road trip (although we are going to Venice in November for a babymoon! P.S. How dumb is the word “babymoon”?).
There are other things on the list. I’m driving Brandon crazy: Re-do the baby’s bathroom. Get our finances in order. Re-tile the fireplace. Create built-in storage space in the office. Replace all the interior doors. Consider landscaping. Do the baby registry (um, done. Hi, I’m a planner. Thanks, Amazon). Get the nursery ready. Clean the living tar out of everything. I literally have on the list, “Investigate crack in bedroom wall.” Brandon said that can be my task, but I should be prepared to devote at least 45 minutes to an hour nightly to staring at the crack.
I realize I sound like an insane person. It’s a wonder Brandon puts up with me. This has been our life for four years, but now it’s in hyperdrive because I feel obligated to make everything perfect for baby. In reality, baby will care not one iota if his door is wood or masonite. But I somehow was spoiled by this perfect persona I babysat for in college; the perfect little wealthy family with the perfect little nursery and the perfect, pristine house. I mean, none of them had five pets. But I figure what the heck.
Meanwhile, I’ve been freelancing full-time at a local agency with my old coworker, and I’m sharpening my media skills again. It’s been great, and very low-pressure – exactly what I was hoping for. I’m making it work, and this is a great proof of concept for future FT temp gigs. The situation, although unexpected in terms of timing, could all end up working nicely because it means I can work when I want and be home with baby when I want, sometimes even working from home. It’s a little stressful having so much unpredictability in my life, but I have a feeling the universe did it on purpose.
Here’s to finding the zen in this second trimester, for both my sake and Brandon’s. And here’s to the new little white boy soon entering the world… may he be as good and respectful to women as Brandon is, as embracing of other cultures as we both try to be, and as much a benefit to the world as a drain on it. This is what I wish for our son… and we can’t wait to meet him.