We almost welcomed you into the world this weekend. The doctors were concerned about your mother’s high blood pressure, and so they sent us to the hospital for further screening. As it turns out, you’re doing just fine in there. You have a good looking heart, Blue.
Up until this point, I’ve experienced mostly excitement lightly tinged with nervousness about your arrival. On Friday, fear made its presence known to the bottom layer of my stomach. Forget butterflies. I felt barbed wire down there.
Impending parenthood. For the longest time, these nine months of pregnancy have felt like the steady climb up the first drop of a roller coaster. The steady clanking of the lift chain. The knuckles, banded white as fingers grip the safety bars. We’ve been excited, but never, not once, has that excitement been separated from huge amounts of anxiety and trepidation.
On Friday, it felt like the last little bit of the incline, far above the tree line. On any roller coaster, it’s at that moment, just as the you pass under the sign that says ‘Keep all hands inside the cart at all times’, and the cart slips silently off the chain, its weight beginning to pull it down the steep decline…it’s that moment you realize you are powerless. Nothing is under your control. Things are about to happen very, very fast, and there isn’t anything left to do except experience it. It’s terrifying, but also thrilling in the way that few things can be.
We were right there on Friday, but instead of going down the hill, we’re just stuck at the top. For a little bit longer. Waiting.