It’s three in the morning and I’m obsessing.
I know I can be the poster child for worry, sometimes, but I’m trying very hard to just chill because they tell me you know when I’m stressed. Obviously this is totally unfair to you, and I’m sorry.
Everyone seems so excited to meet you and enjoy some serious baby girl cuteness. Honestly, I am too, despite all the nervousness.
Your dad & I decided we should probably put together your registry of stuff you are going to need. (Need is kind of a loose term, but ideally we’ll end up with most of this stuff.) I thought I’d be more worried about how much it’s all going to cost, but your dad is such a good planner, and I think I’m learning to just trust him that you’ll always be taken care of. So your registry wasn’t one of my favorite things to do to get ready, but it’s (mostly) done. Plus your dad and I make a pretty good team, and I like spending the afternoon with him getting stuff checked off.
No, I’m not worried about the money, and only just a little bit about getting the ‘right’ stuff. I don’t want to waste money on things that are completely useless or will just break, but we’ve done our homework. Beyond that, there’s nothing more to be done.
I guess I’m not sure why I’m feeling extra crazy. Maybe it’s just how much more you’ve been making sure I feel you moving in my belly, combined with the actual stuff we’ll be using to help take care of you… it’s just getting so REAL. And spending the evening with some of your dad’s friends and their kids definitely reinforced ideas about what our life is going to be like down the road: not particularly glamorous, but full of wonder and love.
I mean, really, who wants glamorous anyway? Too much pressure, which, if you’re anything like me, you won’t need!
My dear Nora, you are coming, and soon. Maybe I should put myself under a little less pressure to be perfect, and allow us all to just be.