Things Just Got Real

Remember that time that we were having a baby, selling our house, leaving our amazing jobs, leaving an amazing town, moving back “home” three hours away, finding new jobs, and buying a new house?

I do. It’s now. As in, all within the next two to three months.

We knew it would be hard. We knew we would want to rip our hair out. We knew the timing was downright crazy. We also knew that we were ready to be parents, and that trumped all the logical reasons to wait for that elusive “perfect time” to start a family.

We DIDN’T know how hard it would be to leave Kansas City. We’ve been trying to check things off our Kansas City bucket list while we still can: for example, when we brought Eli to his first Sporting Kansas City game. It seemed appropriate with all the kicking he’s been doing lately! In the last minute of the game, you could have found me crying in my seat. Yes, crying. I am going to miss this town so, so much.

We DIDN’T know that we were going to have snow storms that would take up my perfectly timed maternity leave and require me to come back for four days of work before summer break. Four days. (Thankfully, those four days will be finals, and finals are easy.)

We DIDN’T know that we would get an ice dam that would cause our dining room ceiling to leak a week before putting the house on the market … OR that the guest bathroom sink would leak the weekend we were out of town (so the floors could be refinished) which stained our living room ceiling.

Thankfully, we have amazing in-laws who not only know how to fix these kinds of things, but are willing to help us do it.

We absolutely didn’t plan on getting trapped in a sleet storm that would make our sweaty 3 1/2 hour drive home from my baby shower last 5 1/2 hours. Sweaty? Yes, sweaty. In an attempt to limit the number of times we would have to pull off the highway to scrape down the ice building up on the window, we had the heat on full-blast. It was minimally effective in preventing ice buildup, but it was HIGHLY effective in giving me a preview as to what my husband will look like when he drives me to the birth center to have the baby: both hands clenched on the wheel, sweat dripping down his face and with him giving me intense side-glances to make sure I am doing okay while he quietly freaks out inside. Thankfully, little baby Eli was rolling around enough to distract me from getting too anxious about our trip. I was also distracted by thinking about how amazing my baby shower had been. I don’t know who invented the idea of a baby shower, but I would like to meet them and kiss them. Hard. A room full of women who shower you with love … and gifts. They say nice things … and give you gifts. They share their funny parenting stories … and did I mention that they bring gifts?

My sister went above and beyond when she put together this woodland-themed shower for Eli and I.

Guests guessed my due date – a few even said he would come on my birthday. I’ll be sure to write them an “un-thank you” note later.

I found motivational quotes that I thought would help me through labor, and guests at the shower wrote encouraging notes inside the quote cards; this way, when my husband (or doula, or family) run out of ways to say “good job!”, they can use someone else’s words instead. I may have peeked at them ahead of time, and I have to say, my friends and family are the perfect combination of witty, sentimental, and motivational.

After the shower, I pointed to my belly and reminded my niece “I have a baby in here!” and she immediately (but gently) started petting my belly. Then, she showed me HER belly, so I returned the favor. It was quite the precious reminder of those moments you just can’t capture through FaceTime.

In other “holy cow, we’re really having a child!” news, we finally managed to pack our bags for the birth center. We wouldn’t have done it on our own, but it was a homework assignment for our birthing class. 😉 I couldn’t believe that I was actually picking out what I would be birthing in. Things got REALLY real when we had to pick an outfit to bring the baby home in. Oh, right, he is going to live outside of me and needs things, too. Like clothes. And diapers. We packed diapers. In a bag we own. For our child. What?!

The last straw in this series of baby revelations was sponsored by Eli himself. He’s finally moved head-down. Now that I am bigger, and he is substantially bigger, his kicks and punches have upgraded to the creepiest/coolest rolling motions ever. I like to pretend that I know exactly which body part of his is moving. “Oh, there’s his back … and here’s his butt …” I could be right. I might be right. But, honestly, who’s going to correct me if I’m wrong? My secret is safe with Eli.

With all his new moves, I think he de-Grinched my heart … or made my heart grow three sizes is probably more like it. You see, I’ve been holding a secret. I love pregnancy – no, that’s not the secret. I’m fascinated by birth – but that’s not the secret, either … nor is it a secret that I am excited to be a mommy and for my husband to be a daddy.

The secret was that from only weeks into my pregnancy, my husband has said that he loves our baby. I couldn’t do it. I loved the IDEA of our baby. I knew I would love him when he got here, but I couldn’t honestly say that I was in love with him.

When he started kicking, I thought that surely I would be comfortable saying that I loved him – but it just wasn’t so. Maybe after we learned the gender of our baby? Nope – not if I was honest.

Carrying him is cool. I’ve loved talking to him and making him an awesome home, but I still couldn’t say with honesty that I felt genuine love for my child (nor can I believe I just admitted this to the internet). With each new landmark in our pregnancy, my husband would cautiously ask at bedtime: “so, do you love him yet?” and I’d have to admit, “not yet.”

Well folks, it FINALLY happened – and it started by watching a birth.

The same birth I’ve shown three and four times in one day.

Every semester.

Every year.

For the past five years.

This year, though, I cried. Tears of joy, excitement, and envy that this mom was getting to meet her baby. Then, that night, Eli was rolling around in that perfect way which allowed me to not only feel him, but see him. It had been a rough day. With a mug resting on my belly as I sat there, the mug moved in a wave. My husband’s eyes got big. “You’re doing that! He can’t be doing ALL THAT!” I don’t even have the ability to suck my belly in anymore, much less make my stomach muscles move in a wave (but thanks for trying to give me the credit, babe). That’s when I knew. I can officially say, I love my little boy.

“I can’t wait to meet him” would be a lie. I can wait. I like being pregnant. Being pregnant is awesome! You get to wear clothes that (appropriately) cling to your belly. You get to refer to your afternoon walks as “exercise.” You get to watch your body morph and change; you get to feel a human inside of you! People let you cut in line, they hold doors open for you, they worry about you … and best of all, people love to tell you how cute you look – like, all the time.

I’m going to go through some serious withdrawal when this is over. Having a little baby to love and take care of should be JUST the thing to cure me.

Now … to birth him!

About the author: I’m Alli Brown, a twenty-seven year old high school family and consumer sciences teacher. I’m married to the man I was lucky enough to fall for before we could even drive. After graduating from Kansas State, we got married and moved to Kansas City. Five years later, we are now expecting our first child. That’s right – this parenting teacher is finally going to be a parent! You can follow along with more of our journey on my personal blog.