The nursery isn’t finished. I have yet to wash his clothes. His car seat is still in a box in the garage. I haven’t taken a tour of the hospital—where are we supposed to park? I’m only on page 5 of the baby book I bought two months ago. My hospital bag still isn’t packed. We haven’t decided on a name. I haven’t gone on my babymoon yet. HAVE. TO. GO. ON. MY BABYMOON!! His bottles still need to be sterilized. My dog Jeter needs to go the groomer. I haven’t prepared any dinners to freeze. How do you use a breast pump? Do we have a proper “going home” outfit for him? Did I buy baby wipes? MUST. BUY. BABY WIPES!
And that’s what went through my head all before 5 A.M.
I’m typically the type of person that when I get something in my head, I’m a speed demon to get it all done. That strategy doesn’t seem to be working this time around because the extra 35 pounds I’m carrying and my aching back are slowing me down. The husband has been great in helping out and putting up with my to-do (and do-it-now) list but again, I’d rather just do it myself. And frankly there’s not much he can do with this crazy, ‘nesting,’ panicking phase I’m going through. I tell him just to look the other way. “It’s too late for me. Save yourself!”