I'm starting the 30th week this week. THIRTY weeks? With a baby in my belly? He's kicking all the time these days and I'm definitely getting more uncomfortable. And tired. And excited. And intimidated, too...about birth, about caring for two, about months ahead of crazy, lost sleep.
I really just want to meet him. (Not yet, of course, not till it's time. But SOON.) I'd like the next 10 weeks to speed by, but at the same time I feel like we still have a lot to do to prepare.
Like put together their shared room. Buy a bed for Cora. Get a double jogging stroller. Buy more cloth diapers. Prepare for lots of poop.
Over the next year or so, we also plan to finish out the second half of our basement. If it's possible, we'll add a 4th bedroom which will make our five-year plan in this house more feasible, I think.
This year has already felt much more dominated by long-term goals than ever before. Things like four-year-debt removal plans. Remodeling plans. Savings plans. School plans. Writing plans. Career plans. Gardening plans.
I think about them all the time. It is empowering. I can see things rolling out before us. Even amidst all the unknowns, there is a certain kind of security that comes from setting goals. It feels good. We've been sorting through old things, cleaning out the basement, throwing stuff away, visualizing our next steps.
I think what I need to do is buy a teeny, tiny pair of newborn shoes for a little boy and stare at them for a long while. Maybe then it will really, truly set in that our family will soon become four.
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