Today is the third big ultrasound day. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't excited to see Peanut in all of his naked, soon-to-be-born in three months, glory. I can't help but worry that there is something wrong with him, though. Besides being huge and breech, I mean.
I am a perpetual worrier, thinly disguised with a laid-back veneer. Motherhood has only exaggerated this trait in me. I worry about everything now. I worry that there is something wrong with his spine and that's why he wouldn't turn over in the last ultrasound. I worry that he will have life-long genetic problems because the FOB and I were drinking on the night he was conceived and I continued to drink until I found out that I was pregnant. I worry that everytime I see a beer commercial I think, "Oh, sweet beer. How I miss your cold goodness," and that now everyone on the internet thinks that I'm a raging alchie (Good news: I'm not. Although I think that pregnancy might be a little easier if we could all have a couple of beers now and then).
I worry about taking care of Peanut. So far I've put a lot of stock into the "naturalness" of motherhood, as in: "I won't worry that I don't know how or how often to breastfeed. I'm sure the kid will figure it out when he gets close to the nipple. It's natural, right?" This is what I tell myself at 3am, at least. I've been reading books and articles on-line, yet my Dad turned to me last night and asked: "At what age can a baby hold its head up on its own?" Ummmm....The theme music to Jeopardy was playing in the background, mocking my ignorance. "What is, 'Whenever it wants to? Alex." Why is my father, the man that raised two girls into women, asking me this? Is he testing me to see if I've read "What to Expect in the First Year" because I haven't? I haven't even finished "What to Expect When You're Expecting" let alone moved on to the first year of childhood.
So, Peanut, this is what you should expect at birth: a neurotic, loving mother, a fantastic Aunt that can help you install your computer or answer any question that you might have from car brakes to genetic research (in fact, we will be keeping Aunt Jen's number on speed dial for a while. At least during your formative years because, let's be honest, I don't know where electricity comes from), two doting and unbelievably excited grandparents that promise to teach you how to pee standing up and later become a honest, good man, and a whole, wacky group of Mommy's friends that can't wait to meet you. Daddy might be around for a little bit, too and hopefully, you will get to meet Daddy's parents, your other grandparents. All and all, kid, that's not too bad. I can't wait to see you today. Make sure you wave so Grandma can see you and try not use Mommy's bladder as a trampoline.
a.k.a. Pregnant in Texas
24 weeks pregnant