Week Thirty-Four

the office is now the bedroom, the bedroom is now the office, there's a changing table, a bassinet, and a glider rocker hanging out in the living room while we get things back in place, there's an infant carseat installed in the back of my little Honda now, and...
HOLY CRAP PEOPLE THERE IS A BABY CARSEAT IN MY CAR!!!! !!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!
*excuse me*
okay, we now return to this post with vain promises to no longer abuse caps or exclamation marks.
apologies to you loyal Team Hope readers who have been wondering where i've been; i swear i had a Week Thirty-Three post started, but got massively waylaid by having to put together some kind of registry even though the whole Stuff Accumulation thing is very overwhelming and i'm fine with your hand-me-downs, seriously, and...yes, okay, i need to allow people to bless us with necessary things. it's just that as my new dad friend pointed out: this is where it gets Real. when you're looking at a tiny bassinet in the middle of the room, you have to decide if you're going to believe it'll soon have your son sleeping in it, or allow your monkey brain to skitter around with various doomsday scenarios that keep said tiny bassinet empty. and i've found that decision is less a leap of faith than it is a gradual sidling up to and gently flopping into faith.
i think last week was the first time i started being able to imagine and dream about what it might be like to actually meet our little Tummymuffin IV. apparently i'm still worried i might produce a blonde baby, since the only detail that was clear was my imagined thatch of Very Dark Hair on his wee head. my mother-in-law, who is here from Germany, told me recently that she now "enjoys to see my eyes because they show i really believe i will get a baby."
i wondered, in post after post here, how i would interact with a viable pregnancy likely to come to term. i'm finding out now in real time; i appreciate every day with my enormous belly and the way he makes her dance with all his squirming and kicking. all the uncomfortables of pregnancy seem like an eminently fair trade for a healthy baby. my marvelous OB/GYN is even visibly pleased we've gotten this far; she was so happy telling me we've now passed the last big developmental milestone, and that husbanator and i should go celebrate. which we will, but first i need to help him finish spackling all the holes in the ex-office-now-bedroom-for-three. gotta get used to that number. three.