Spooked but Strong

It's been a while. Infants are now toddlers, Bieber has a girlfriend , Bin Laden is swimming with the sharks. I've been blog-neglectful for a solid 8 months and though I know it felt like a well-deserved vacation, the party is over, people. I'm back.

I should start with the most joyful update: The family Pasz will make 3 in just a number of weeks. The husband and I are expecting a daughter. We're indescribably excited, grateful, euphoric...and spooked. History has conditioned us to play it cool, let the universe decide our fate when it comes to family expansion efforts. And though I admire those who boldly post the sideways tummy shot on Facebook, I'm fairly certain a large beam from the ceiling would fall on me immediately after I make the same choice. We've digested this experience slowly, cautiously and with private appreciation and not only has it been incredibly lovely, it's been easy and painless. Until last night.

I'll spare my brother my hundreds of male readers the anatomical references because let's be frank, no one wants to hear about pregnant lady parts. Last night, I suddenly felt a tightness in the place where the baby lives (oh hell, my uterus) and realized I was having legitimate contractions. This would be glorious and exciting if I were anywhere near my due date. As I am not, it was less glorious than one would imagine.

Trying to remain calm, I slowly told the husband that something not so typical was happening and requested he get my handy Dr. Oz YOU! Having a Baby! book. That title really does it for me - it's like a big high-five from him every time I open it on a job well-done. Dr. Oz told me that contractions are normal at my stage and explained the difference between "practice" contractions and pre-term labor. My symptoms applied to both. This is when my kind, compassionate, scared-out -of -his-brains husband made the executive decision.

Husband: "I'm packing your hospital bag."
Me: "You....you are?"
Husband: "Yes, what goes in it?"
Me: "I have absolutely no idea. The largest underwear you can find. And some snacks?"

As I watched my husband move at Olympic speed packing my hospital bag, I realized two things. I never loved him more. And we have absolutely nothing to bring the baby home in.

Then, like magic, he emerged with a hand-me-down onesie gifted from a relative. It was Halloween-themed and said, "I Love My Mummy" on it. Seems reasonable.

In the end, they were just contractions - a signal that she is on her way but not necessarily before her time. We're still spooked and likely will be until we hold her in our arms. The good news? She's all set for Halloween. And you thought I wasn't prepared for this.