Preparing for T-Rexy

Happy New Year! I’ve missed you people.

I have to say first that I’m a failure and had all along intended to keep the blog updated last week, but I was having way too much fun with friends and family in Philly and decided that I was not going to feel guilty. And I didn’t.

So, here I am on the last leg of my four-week odyssey across the country from Boyetts to Hohorsts and back to the west coast. I’m writing this from my father in law’s house in Connecticut and have to tell you that my baby bump is exponentially bigger than it was three weeks ago. Or maybe it’s just the angle I’m staring at it from. Either way, I’m getting really pregnant and the two pound (three pound?) tadpole won’t stop reminding me of his presence. Once I get on the plane with August on Saturday, there will be no more getting on planes until this little guy hatches. That’s scary.

In my pregnancy with August I remember thinking it was so strange that I wouldn’t be pregnant forever, that I would actually give birth and have a real person given to my care. Isn’t weird that I keep having to remind myself of the same thing? As much as being pregnant is terrible and remarkable and wonderful, it feels so separate to me from the actual baby I will hold and love and feed. It still feels incredibly abstract that he will be my son in the same way that August is my son.

Today in the car, as we drove from Philadelphia to Greenwich, we asked August (as we’ve asked several times before) what he wants to name his little brother. This time he said: “T-Rexy!” and continued to ask questions about his baby.

“Mama, why is T-Rexy gonna cry sometimes?”

“Is T-Rexy just a sweet baby?”

“Can I show T-Rexy my bup?” (His bup is his blanket.)

I said, “Do you think T-Rexy will look like you?”

“No! He looks like a dinosaur!”

Of course he does. His name is T-Rexy. What was I thinking? I’m trying to decide if there’s a different level of emotional preparation required for the birth of a second child. Am I prepared just because I’ve done this before? Or has doing this before made me even less prepared, because all I know about motherhood I’ve learned from parenting August? Do I really believe that this is a separate child and not just my first born all over again?

Giving birth is not just scary because the experience of delivery is difficult in an ineffable way. It’s scary because once that enormous task is completed, you’re left with an actual human being, who you will love and who will break your heart and demand your time and passion and future.

I’m not prepared to give birth to a dinosaur. I have 9 weeks (or more, or less) to pray that maybe my dinosaur-baby will teach me how to get this world ready for his entering.

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