photo processed with Afterlight for iPhone. dress from Nordstrom.
I have become a little...emotional. Things that make me cry in no particular order: seeing newborn baby photos on my instagram feed (and there are approximately one million these days), whenever anyone mentions how much they love their mom, noticing my finger tips have bruises from finger sticks, 80% of the dances on Dancing with the Stars, not knowing what I want to eat for dinner, almost every TV love scene, that horrible Excedrin commercial where somehow the dad didn't realize his wife was having quadruplets until they were all born.
But the worst was last week when we were planning dates for when Paul could come home. I have truly made peace with him not being here for the end of the this pregnancy. I have made peace with him getting back a bit late and missing the birth. I know it will be okay.
On this conversation though, we were scheduling for the other end, the day he'd return to deployment a little over a week after arriving home. I have talked with my provider and know how far past my due date I'll be able to go before we start talking induction. If we make sure Paul is home for the potential (though hopefully not needed) induction date, then we guarantee he will at least not miss meeting the baby. (Because surely that would be the most lame...to get him all the way here and then have baby girl plant herself for 10 days.)
So with that day in mind, we counted forward and I realized, surely not for the first time, but for the first time in this emotional state, OH MAN, he'll be leaving us. And my heart broke. It broke for him, having to get back on a plane after falling in love with a tiny human he helped make. It broke for me, having to watch him go, this time with the overwhelming task of caring for a newborn. It broke for all families who go through this hot mess that is deployment and especially the ones who are not blessed with the ten days together we are so lucky to have.
Paul, who knows the drill, sat quietly on video chat as tears ran down my cheeks. He didn't ask if I am okay (because of course I am and of course I am not all at the same time). He didn't say it will all be okay (because of course it will be and of course it will not all at the same time). I smiled and wiped my eyes and he smiled back.
"I know, babe." he said.
We are 31 weeks deep. In nine weeks plus or minus, we'll become parents and the real journey begins. I couldn't ask for a better partner on this adventure.