I’m going to have a baby.
It’s starting to sink in. When I lay on the couch with my family in the evenings, I imagine what it will be like to have a little basinet next to the sofa, waiting for the little angel to wake up hungry.
I imagine the the feeling of the soft baby skin upon my cheek as I bring the angel close to my face so I can lay sweet little kisses on it’s cheek.
I imagine dropping my boys off at school being much more hectic. Having to load the baby into the car seat, while the baby screams and cries because it’s hungry and me begging the little angel to hold on for 10 minutes while we take it’s brothers to school.
I imagine everyone fighting to hold the little angel. “You’ve had the baby all day mommy, it’s my turn!” Ethan will say. “Mom, can I please hold the baby now?” Andrew will ask. And I’ll sit there and watch my boys hold this precious little baby, our accident, the baby that wasn’t supposed to happen, and I’ll tear up at what a beautiful sight it is to behold.
I imagine laying next to my husband in bed after putting our sweet angel to bed, holding him close, and telling him how blessed I am to have another child with him and we’ll snuggle and talk about what a beautiful family we have. We’ll wonder why we never thought we could handle another baby and marvel at how the little angel made our family complete.
Funny how an ‘accident’ has suddenly become the greatest joy of our lives.
One day, soon, I’ll write the realistic version of the above fantasy. The one where I crawl into bed with Tony after putting the baby to bed, smelling like throwup and breast milk, my jiggly belly touching his bare back, and he’ll turn to me and say “oh my god, y, take a shower already!” and I’ll snap back with “MAKE ME!”
But for now, I prefer the sweet fantasy of the perfect family made complete by this baby.