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63 Days

9 weeks. Well, maybe 10 or 11 until our little ninja shows up, but 9 weeks or 63 days until my due date. [Insert me, crazy eyed, shaking C by the shoulders.]  I think bringing home the collection of beautiful and thoughtful gifts from the baby shower made everything feel a little like an aha moment. So WE were having a BABY, and not just having but caring for and send one off to college one day. We stood making plans with my good friend Austin, and realized we should really get on seeing her in Dallas, cause before we knew it, there would be a BABY. Like a real squirming, pooping thing to take care of… forever.

I have a really good knack with denial. I somehow can not really process something until I am actually experiencing it or it is staring me in the face. It has been a bit of a defense mechanism when dealing with tough situations, only deal with what’s currently there, and let tomorrow take care of itself. So when it comes to the pregnancy, there has been something growing in my belly, but that never amounted to what that actually could mean to our lives. Until this week, or today, or yesterday. Something like that.

This morning, I went on a cloth diapering research marathon only to wind up more confused, I have been waking up at some really weird hours in the night and I can’t stop fake-shopping for everything baby on the web. How do you know when and if you’re prepared for this? I think this is the point I realize I’m going crazy and do something about it… but what can anyone in this situation “do?” Who knows.

And so here I am. With 62.7 days (and the rest of my life) left to figure it out.


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