Recently, I have been thinking more and more about writing down some of my pregnancy, parenting, and other life thoughts during this time of change in the Eastlund household. I thought about keeping a journal. Or over sharing on facebook. It seemed that the best venue was to start a blog (please note that the only thing I am promising to do here is start the blog, fully recognizing that in two weeks this may be a lost cause) for friends and family that want to follow our journey, read our crazy thoughts, or simply see pictures of Henry when he arrives in roughly 73 days. Again, and it bears repeating, I make no promises regarding upkeep. I am notorious for beginning projects that I never finish (currently on that list: our wedding scrap book from nearly 6 years ago, painting the living room which we started roughly 3 years ago, finishing 5 knitting projects – some of them 7 or more years old, etc.).
Before starting this little endeavor, I asked Allen if he had a problem with my blogging about being pregnant and parenting and Henry. He looked at me like I was crazy. But, hey, I feel the father of the child I plan to exploit should have a say in the level of exploitation.
This may simply become a place to dump pictures of Henry one he arrives so that I do not overwhelm facebook with my obsessiveness. Currently, I definitely fall into the “I won’t be one of THOSE parents” categories, but I think we can all agree that will go straight down the pooper once the ugliest being that I never wanted to let out of my arms arrives.
Correct. Uggliest. Being. Babies aren’t cute. Can’t we just agree to that? They come out smooshed, blotchy, and covered in stuff that has been described to me as “cheese like.” But will I think Henry is the best? Oh, certainly. I’d be the worst mum ever if I didn’t. However, pre-Henry arrival I can say with confidence that it is highly likely he will not be cute. The odds are against him as they are with every other child ever born. Except Asian babies. Seriously, why are they the most adorable babies that ever existed?
I don’t plan to say anything brilliant, but I do plan to be honest about what I am thinking and feeling because I am CERTAIN other parents think and feel the same things, but it feels like there is a little bit of a lack of honesty in what it really means to be a parenting. I am sick of hearing about how rewarding and awesome it is going to be – tell me the truth! No one wants to have poop in their hair, vomit on their face, or live off 3 hours of sleep. Babies cry and they NEED. Just. Everything. Lots of neediness. And those things are hard. And right now I can only intellectually comprehend how hard they will be, but I have no idea what it really means to have your house torn apart with no energy to fix it while a toddler is crying because it is May and Santa won’t be coming for some time. And that is probably a very mild hypothetical in the lives of parents.
Someone recently asked Allen if he was excited to have a baby. His response was no. I think that is spot on. No one in their right mind should be excited for a baby. They are awful.
Now, lest you think we are terrible people from whom Henry will need rescue, let me tell you the things we’re so stoked about we can hardly stand it: baby smiles, baby giggles, all the firsts, holding our fingers, fighting over who he looks like, watching him grow, watching him learn, teaching him to be an awesome person, watching him make mistakes and figure things out, getting dirty, watching him love the dog, and so so so much more. But it is foolish to think those things do not come at a cost. It is just a cost that we are so very willing to pay. And it is the cost that all parents are so very willing to pay.
We are all damned fools.
And as I type that at 29 weeks 5 days, Henry is kicking me. And I put my hand on my belly and smile because I love it.