Get Ready to Freak Out

From all the cuteness. And the big brains.

Hooray!

My son can count to ten all by himself, and his momma is crazy proud of him.

That's all.

Dad, Booze, and Other Things Drake Says

My son's first word was "Mama". Naturally. Thankfully. He said it before he was even a year old.
That was followed shortly by "ball," pronounced more like "baw." Then came "Nana" and "Baba" and "hi" and "bye."
And then that was kind of it for quite awhile. He used those words consistently and frequently, but didn't latch on to any others until about two months ago. That's about the time he started using "hep me" any time he wanted something, and was successfully taught how to say "tant tu" when it was given to him. He also melted hearts when he waved and said "nigh nigh" on his way to bed.
So that's 11 words. Some of which he was saying in two word phrases. And he still hadn't learned to say "Dad." It's probably not hard to imagine that my husband's feelings were a bit hurt. I worked on it all the time. I pointed at Justin's pictures when he was away at work or school and said repeatedly, "Dad! Daaaadd. Daddy!" to which Drake would respond, "Mom!" Flattery aside, I felt kinda guilty about it.
So I think I was every bit as excited as Justin when Drake just decided to start using "Dad" all on his own over Labor Day Weekend. We were on our trip out to my brother's farm for his wedding, and I guess Drake just decided to show off for all our friends and family. He also started saying "apple," which now stands in for all varieties of fruit and vegetable.
Since then, it seriously has felt like he has added a new word almost every day. I honestly can't keep track of them all. I wish I had written this post two weeks ago. I'm going to do my best to think of them all and start keeping a record.
Drake's 21 Month Vocabulary:
Mom or Mama
Ball (still pronounced "baw")
Nana
Baba
Hi
Bye
Help me ("hep me")
Thank you ("tant tu")
Goodnight ("nigh nigh")
Dad
Boots (which he loves to wear - he brings them to me and says "booze! booze!")
Juice ("deuce," which stands in for all beverages)
Apple
Cheese ("teece")
No (this one is not Mom's favorite)
Ew (when he has a dirty diaper)
Yuck
Eye (he points to them in books and on the faces of his toys. He can also point to a nose, mouth, cheek, chin, forehead, ear, and eyebrow when prompted, but he has yet to say any of those himself.)
Teeth
Up
More (sounds more like "moi")
Boom (do sound effects count? He says this one when he throws things.)
Me and Mine
Home
Dog
Yummy ("Nuuuuumy!")
Baby

He understands:
Kiss (and if you're lucky, he'll give you one, "mmmaaaww!" sound effect and all)
Drake ("Isn't he clever, Mr. O'haire? He responds to his own name!" Quick! What movie? ;))
Book (he'll run and go get you one to read)
Hungry (he'll laugh and run to his high chair if he is)
Lovey (his snuggle buddy since the day he was born)
Outside
Come here
...and a lot of other phrases. I feel like his understanding is really quite amazing. I say full sentences to him and feel as though he gets the point. These are just the ones that I know for sure get the appropriate response.

I feel certain I'm forgetting some, but that is a pretty good start.

Oh my gosh, he's a genius

Drake has started trying to say "ball" although it comes out a little more like "baw." They are his favorite type of toy - he loves them in all colors and sizes. He plays with them so consistently and makes the "baw" noise so often, that I wasn't actually sure he was trying to say "ball" at all. But just now, as we were eating our breakfast and watching Sesame Street, there was a basketball on screen. I didn't notice it, because, really, I'm not the one watching the cartoons. My job is to spoon yogurt at a steady rate. But then Drake lost interest in the yogurt and started saying, "Baw! Baw!" and sure enough, there it was, on a table next to Elmo. I was so impressed. The camera angle changed and the ball was no longer in the picture. Drake was silent. Camera angle changes back: "Baw! Baw!" Oh, I'm so proud. You super-smarty pants, you.

Summer 2012 Recap, Part 1: Drake

 Labor Day weekend is long gone. Students have been back to school for weeks now (my husband included!). The evenings are starting to cool off and people are excited to bust out their jeans and sweaters. All of the social and cultural factors have been lining up for a while.  And now, it’s official. The Fall Equinox is here. Summer is over.

So I thought it was a good moment to pause, take a breath, and get back to this here blog of mine.

Drake, I want you to know that I didn’t stop writing in your online baby book because there was nothing exciting going on to tell you about or because your development became any less thrilling to me – quite the opposite, my son! We have been so busy living such a full life. And you! You have grown so much and so fast and so profoundly! You are moving and learning and vocalizing.

You have been getting around pretty well all summer – you perfected a military crawl several months ago. It was so effective, I wasn’t sure you would ever care to learn how to actually crawl on your knees. But about a week ago, you got it. And now, you are literally unstoppable. You are getting anywhere and everywhere – fast! You even started climbing the stairs – cute, but terrifying. Sure enough, you rolled down a few steps two days ago. It’s high time for some baby gates. You and I have errands to run later today…

 You are also sitting up incredibly well. This may not seem as impressive as the crawling, but it baffles me possibly more than the crawling does. You just look so big when you sit up so tall and sturdy like that. And it wasn’t even a process! You just DID it. One day, about a month ago, you just tucked your knees under you, pushed yourself up, and then turned and looked at me like, "What? No big deal." Now you crawl where you want to go, slide your legs under you, and sit and play with your desired object – you know, like electrical cords and box fans and dog bowls. Very appropriate toys.

In the world of “firsts,” there has been a lot going on. You said your first word about six weeks ago and haven’t stopped saying it since. What was it, you ask? Well, in a move that melted your momma’s heart yet again, you said “Momma” before any other word. It is so good to be loved by you, Little Man.

You went on your first airplane ride and went swimming for the first time when we visited the Tennessee clan this past July. You did great on the plane – it wasn’t the fun and restful trip that Mom has been used to in her life with the addition of you on my lap – but every stewardess commented on how good you were. On each leg of our trip, there was a baby that screamed and cried and kept everyone awake but it was never you. We were proud parents, for sure. 

 I was equally as proud and excited to see how much you loved the water when we went swimming in Nana and Pampa’s neighborhood pool. There was no fear whatsoever, even when I tried the blow-in-your-face-and-dunk trick. Your eyes got big, but you did great. Held your breath and decided to smile despite the shock. Between that and your very vigorous and strong kicking in the bathtub, I just know you’re going to be a great swimmer. It’s in your genes. 

 On a much less happy note, you were diagnosed with a little “condition” this summer. At the end of an extremely heart wrenching process, we found out you had something called Anal Stenosis. It basically means that your little bottom was too small. After eleven days without being able to go to the bathroom and a trip to the emergency room in Chattanooga that involved an enema and the most heart breaking hour and a half yet, it was our wonderful pediatrician here at home that finally told us what was going on. Mom had been feeling extremely guilty because the nurse practitioner in Tennessee had told us it was constipation from the foods I’d been feeding you that caused the cramping and screaming and pain that I had seen you go through for days. I was devastated that the bananas and rice cereal I had been so pleased to give you had caused you so much pain. Turns out, it wasn’t your diet at all. It was your hardware. That being said, Dr. Reynolds recommended that we go back to a strictly breast milk diet – well, breast milk and prune juice - to keep your stools as soft as possible while the situation sorted itself out. Yes, that was the good news! It was something you would grow out of simply through the process of… well… pooping. It would gradually stretch out, though it would be a slower than normal and slightly uncomfortable process. We had to learn to use at home enemas and mom had to chug gallons and gallons of water to keep her milk supply up to snuff (your appetite had grown used to the bulk of solid foods and it wasn’t easy to deprive you of it). But, I am happy to announce, you are doing MUCH better. Over the past couple of weeks, you have been pooping easily and frequently. I have even been able to reintroduce a few purees over the past week! I mixed in a little prune juice, just to be on the safe side, and – so far! – all is going well. I hope it is something that is behind us now.

 It’s hard to condense the past several months of change into one blog post (if only I had been keeping up with it, right?) but I want you to know it’s been a great summer. It’s been a pleasure to watch you grow and explore and just to BE your mom. I saw a commercial for laundry soap, of all things, today that said “you will have a child forever, but a baby for only one year.” What?! You won’t be my baby after one year?! But that is almost over! Agh. I can hardly stand the thought of how soon we will be celebrating your first birthday (though I am so proud to see you grow). I hereby vow to savor every day of your baby hood from today until it’s over, and then to celebrate the next phase with you too.

(And I hope to write a little more about it along the way.)

Home

It's a funny thing. For me, it's more of a sense than a thing. I have lived in some places for months without them ever quite feeling like home. Other spaces have felt like home before I moved in the first box. And it's not just about shelter. It's about location, too. But mostly it's about people. My  husband and son make any house home on some level. And yet the house we're in now is one of those that has never quite felt right. It's not ours; it doesn't suit our needs; it isn't what we would pick for ourselves. But that is all about to change.
We bought a house last Friday. But we didn't buy just any house. We bought our house.
Our home.
 It felt like home the first time I saw it (almost three months ago now). It was full of outdated Grandma-y decor and really, really bad carpet, but I loved it. We put an offer in almost immediately but, sadly, got out-bid. I was beyond heartbroken but, mostly for my husband's sake, tried to keep my chin up. "There will be other good ones," I told myself.
The next time we went house hunting, I tried hard to keep my ex-realtor Dad's tough-love advice in mind: "You can't have that house. It's gone. Forget about it." But I couldn't. I compared everything to it and was completely underwhelmed by my new options. Justin felt the same but chose to let his practical mind take over. My emotions were, as usual, overshadowing my otherwise logical self.
After a few weeks of that, it was a relief to us both when our realtor called to ask if we wanted to put another offer on the first house, as the other buyers' offer had fallen through. Yes! Yes! Yes! A big, emphatic no-hesitations, "Yes!"
In the nearly six weeks since then, a lot has factored into our level of excitement over the new house: financial worries, leaving my home town, the stress of packing. But through it all, I've never doubted for a moment that this is the house for us. What I did doubt was that the proverbial "they" of the world was actually going to give it to us. The seller was going to back out; the appraiser was going to tank the deal; the bank was going to decide "Just kidding! We don't like your credit score after all."
But none of that happened.
On Friday afternoon, the title company receptionist very unceremoniously handed us a manila folder full of plastic baggies full of keys labeled, "garage and greenhouse," "back door," "front door," and "oddball." We drove out of the parking lot like we were afraid they were going to realize their mistake and take them back.
As we drove into Three Forks, I took in everything around us. The old abandoned train station; the tiny coffee shack for sale; the Chinese restaurant with big red letters.  I turned to Justin and said, "Hey, we live here now."
"Yeah, that's what I was just thinking. Weird."
At the house, Justin swept me up and carried me across the threshold and we giggled and kissed and freaked out and generally relished in it for a minute.
Then we got straight to destroying it.
We tore up carpet in some corner of each bedroom and were ecstatic to find old hardwood floors under most of them. They are going to take some hard lovin to get back to pretty but they are there! I accidentally broke the cat door in the front porch. The second you become homeowners, right? Oh well, we don't have a cat.
We ran around doing funny things like tasting the water from the tap - good! - and testing the garage door openers.
I still can hardly believe it.
It belongs to us.
Tomorrow we start the messy job of tearing it apart a bit. A couple of walls are coming out. The - hardwood! - floors are getting refinished. We have so many plans. Because we can. Because it's our first home.
Drake will crawl there for the first time. He will say his first words. He'll take his first steps.
Next week, the three of us are moving home.

It happened already

My son is six months old today. 

 Six months old. All I can do is shake my head in disbelief. All the cliche things are true: it literally goes by in the blink of an eye! I've done everything I can to relish the last six months. I stare at him intently and take everything in and beg time to slow down. It doesn't. It speeds on - faster and faster all the time. I just know that I'm gonna sneeze and it'll be his first birthday. It's crazy. And it's hard to cope with sometimes. But it's not sad. Watching my boy grow and flourish and learn and develop is the greatest honor and thrill of my life. And look how handsome this big boy is!

The Learning Curve

It's crazy steep.
The rate at which this little boy is picking things up is mind boggling. At least it is for this first time Momma.
It wasn't that long ago that he figured out rolling over for the first time. When I told my Mom she said, "That's awesome honey. You have to watch him like a hawk now." But at first it was this super laborious task. It took him several minutes to figure it all out, often getting stuck and having to start over. Knees up to the chest, flop to one side. Head cranes back, arms pull on a blanket for some help. Fail, try again. But now the floor is officially the only safe place to leave this little mover. Not that he's crawling or anything yet, but he is pulling his knees up under him - which, to me, seem pretty freaking incredible. And he rolls instantly now. Seriously, in five seconds or less he's on his tummy and smiling up at me, so proud of himself. He spins around on his tummy and reaches for toys. Like a kid. A very small toddler. But not really a baby. No, babies are tiny and must be held at all times and have no idea what toys or binkies really are.
Speaking of binkie, he's working really hard lately on putting it in his mouth himself. This is super tricky though, as the easiest part to hold onto is, in fact, the same part he's trying to put in his mouth. It's very cute to watch him eat his hand in the process of trying to get to the binkie.
Last week my sister and brother-in-law gave us the ExerSaucer bouncy toy that their youngest no longer needed. At first, when we put Drake in it, he let all his weight rest on his little bum. He just hung there and batted at the toys. Within a couple days, he was getting his feet under him and standing - fully taking the weight off of his bum and standing. Now, he's already starting to figure out the bounce action. It's a chaotic spasm more than a rhythmic bounce, but it's a start. Can you tell that I am one proud Momma?

He's sleeping in his own room!

This is a big day. Drake took his first nap in his room, in his pack and play, without the comfort of the swing, and with the quilt I made him! We closed the door and used the monitor. I think this means that the transition has begun. The move from sleeping in Mom and Dad's bed to sleeping in his own. We're closer and closer all the time to sleeping through the night, too. Stars are aligning...

Noticing things

Drake is quickly taking on a lot of "big" boy qualities. (I recognize that it's all relative, and he only seems like a big boy as compared to his newborn-ness - and then, even, only to me. What a novice mother am I. Nevertheless.) He's beginning to notice the things around him. He sees the toys that hang from his bouncy chair and slaps at them wildly. Every once in a while he gets a hold of one - and seems completely confounded as to what is preventing him from pulling his arm back down close to his body. It's pretty cool to watch him slowly begin to discover the world around him. It's still a small world, but it's all new to him. It wakes up the up the sense of awe and wonder in me, too, as I see things the way I imagine he must see them. Pretty lights! Bright colors! So soft!
I've tried to facilitate these little exploratory experiences by placing things of various textures in his hands, setting brightly colored toys in his line of sight, and singing or playing music. The other day I was blessed enough to capture this "first" on video:



That duck had literally been hanging on his car seat since the day  he was born. Suddenly, it was hilarious.
By the way, I'm truly sorry you had to put up with my laughing like a hyena in the background. Hopefully Drake's sweet laugh made up for it.

The Baby Coma

Little Man passed out at the dance studio with Paige, about three weeks ago.

I don’t know if you’ve heard of it before, but it’s a real thing. It’s that state that babies live in for the first couple months of their lives - completely unaware of what happens around them.  They sleep when they are tired, which is always. The wake only to eat, which inevitably makes them so tired again that their eyes roll back into their heads and they pass out, at the breast, with milk running down their chins – it’s a corresponding phenomena often referred to as Milk Drunk (a very technical term).  They could sleep through a rock concert. My son slept through the trains that pass only a couple blocks from our house – several times a night - and lay on their horns like they’re leading a holiday parade.

But then, I’m finding, something changes. Apparently somewhere around three months of age they start to become aware: aware of people who come to visit; aware of the hustle and bustle of their parents; aware of the dogs in their faces; aware of the jostling of the in and out of the car on errand days; painfully aware of trains. And so my poor baby boy has become overly tired several times in the past week because his Momma can’t figure out how to adjust with him. My errand running plans nearly always interfere with his plans for a good snooze.

My inexperienced, first time Mommy brain thinks that the answer to this problem is a good schedule -regular naps that are easily planned around. The thing is, I have no idea how to establish one. I sat down two nights ago and wrote one out. It looked beautiful on my yellow legal pad: hour for hour descriptions of a perfectly harmonized Drake and Mommy day. I went to bed determined that the next day was going to hum along according to my new plan. I’m sure the veteran mommies out there are laughing at me right about now. Because that is just not how it works. If there is one thing babies are good for, it’s reminding their parents that life does not always (read “ever”) work out the way you had planned.

So for the past two days I’ve just been paying attention to the clock as Drake did his own thing, and I’m amazed/concerned. Little Man spends the first half of his day in almost perfect one hour increments: one hour awake, one hour asleep. Later in the day, he stretches the “awake” portions to something more like two hours. That’s just not gonna work. There is no way to run an errand – and be back at the house in time to put him down! – in one hour. Not gonna happen. Not to mention the crazy amounts of gas I would waste if I only ever ran one errand at a time.

What do I do? Is there a way to help encourage him to stay awake longer? He is so sad when he’s tired, it sort of breaks my heart to think of doing it. I would love any advice or feedback.

One year

Approximately one year ago, something happened silently inside me that would change my world forever. I didn't know it when it happened. I didn't plan it. But I am so, so grateful for it.

One year ago, I was immersed in my second semester as an English Major at Carroll College. I stressed and obsessed and fussed over writing assignments. I typed furiously on my laptop - late into the night - in my favorite corner of campus or some all-night diner. I was trying to figure out Who I Was; What I Sounded Like. I was worried about finals. I was dreaming of becoming a successful, well-paid writer.

These days, my writing assignments are self-assigned. I try to challenge myself here on this blog. I try desperately to remember, and to practice, the knowledge I soaked up in that one year. I’m still trying to find My Voice. I struggle to remember the “What?” and the “So-What?” of each post I write. Why am I writing it? Who am I writing it for? Myself? Drake? My readers? These days, I tend to write my blog posts from my couch, often with just one hand, with a sleeping baby in my lap.

 One year ago, I wasn't getting enough sleep. I sat up nights with a stack of papers and a highlighter. I went cross-eyed staring at my computer screen. I hardly ate. I was completely stressed.

These days, I still don’t get enough sleep, but my late night company is a baby boy who needs me. My eyes are tired and heavy, but they are greeted with gummy smiles and chunky thighs. These days, I eat whenever and whatever I want. I am completely content.

One year ago, I felt as though I was navigating heavy decisions, important tasks, and weighty subjects – the stuff that would affect my future, my well-being, my success, my happiness. I had to work my tail off to make sure I set myself up on the path I wanted (yes: I, I , I).

These days, the biggest decision has been made. My future is my child. My tasks are smaller, but the ripples reach so much further into the future. They go beyond my life time. My days consist of regular feedings and diaper changes, but each is performed with the heart-stretching knowledge that (God willing) this well fed, clean little boy will out-live me. Out-learn me. Out-do me in ways I can’t even imagine yet.

One year ago, I was stressing about the few pounds I put on in my freshman year.

These days, I’d pay good money to see that number on the scale again.

One year ago, my husband and I had a great sex life.

These days, well… there’s a baby in our bed. (Hey, it’s one of the major ways my life has changed. It seemed wrong to let it go unmentioned.)

One year ago, I had never changed a little boy’s diaper. I had never shopped for a breast pump. I had never worn a nursing bra. I had never made a baby blanket for my baby. I had never packed up the clothes he outgrew. I had never “worn” a baby during a workout. I had never spent a date with my husband wondering how my baby was doing. I had never met my son.

One year ago, I had no idea what a difference the next year was about to make.

Three Months

Happy Milestone, my drooly, chunky, sweet boy.

Hello in there

It happened last night, though I wasn't sure of it at the time. I was lounging on the couch in my pj's, waiting for Justin to come home from work, and prodding at my expanded belly. -- It's funny how unfamiliar my body feels to me now. My stomach growls in a different spot than it used to. -- And then, oh! what was that?! A little bump, almost like a low rumble, under my fingers. I wanted to say that I had just felt my baby inside me for the first time, but was hesitant since Mom has told me that those early movements can feel a lot like a gas bubble. And believe me, there is plenty of that happening now! Pregnancy does so many fun things to your body.
This morning, however, was undeniable. I was propped in bed with my laptop, catching up on blog reading and emails when, through no prompting or encouraging of mine, I felt a definite thump against my belly. My eyes shot open wide and I froze, nervous to breathe, wanting so badly for it to happen again. And then it did. Tha-thump. Two more times, right in the same spot.
Hello, amazing child of mine. It's so good to hear from you finally. You can't imagine how long I've waited.

Seeing is believing

Words can not describe the overwhelming thrill of the moment I first saw my baby living inside of me. Up until today the only proof I had of the life growing in my belly were my very regular trips to the bathroom. It can be easy to feel disconnected from the reality behind the symptoms.
Not anymore.
My baby moved its feet. Only 9 weeks and 4 days according to ultrasound measurements and it was big enough to have feet. And to move them. It was the most impressive thing I ever saw anyone do. My husband was sitting behind my shoulders so I couldn't see his face (I suppose I could have had I been willing to take my eyes off of the monitor) but I think he may have shed one of the first tears since the day I met him almost four years ago. My husband just isn't a crier. I giggled and kept saying, "Babe! Look! Babe! Do you see?" and he just squeezed my hand.
Then the ultrasound tech turned on the audio and 174 galloping beats per minute flooded our little room. I overflowed. Big, warm tears rolled out of my eyes and, again, I laughed. It seems to be the only reaction to this magic that I can manage. But my laughter interrupted the sound of the heartbeat so I tried hard to control it this time. I could have listened to that sound all day. Justin said "Wow," just once, slowly and quietly, and squeezed my hand a little tighter. Truly the most awesome experience of my life.
Baby, I love you so much already. I can't wait to meet you.

The Game Changer

I woke up on Good Friday and made a bee-line for the toilet. Sick. I don't tend to start my Friday mornings that way and so, naturally, my first thoughts flew to the possibility that I was pregnant. The rest of the day, however, brought on a full blown flu. Every hour seemed to bring a new symptom. Fever. Body aches. The works. The tiny hunch that perhaps I had just experienced my first bout of morning sickness lingered but was mostly drowned out by the immediate discomfort and pain. I hadn't been that sick in a long, long time.
Looking back now, I think that day gets to go down as my first day of crazy emotional pregnant behavior. My best friend Jaime's daughters were having their joint birthday party that afternoon and I had been promising my nieces, Ayden and Ellie, that I would take them for weeks. I didn't want to get them sick but I hated even more the thought of disappointing them - two sets of big, sad eyes and the inevitable begging and guilt trip laying, "Monny (the moniker Ayden assigned to me long ago) pleeeeaasse! Why can't we go to the party? You promised! Can't you just take some medicine?" Ugh. I wrestled with the decision up until the last minute and ultimately opted to function as a glorified taxi driver, get them to the party, and then make myself scarce.
Once there, my plan worked for exactly 30 minutes before the sound of the dozens of giggling/screaming girls pushed me beyond my ability to cope. I tried to hide on a futon in Jaime's basement, cried into the cushions until Ayden and Ellie had their birthday cake, and then loaded the girls back up in my taxi.
The pain that was radiating through every muscle and joint was so intense, I wasn't sure I should be driving - not to mention the tears that were blurring my eyes. Instead of driving the 20 minutes out of town to my sister's house, I drove three minutes up the road to my Mom's and begged her to take the girls home for me.
By then, the chills had set in and I was shivering uncontrollably. Mom suggested a bath, started one for me, and then left with the girls. I sat hunched over on the couch, rocking back and forth, rubbing the palms of my hands into my quads in an effort not to freak out. When the bath was full, I found to my utter dismay that the hot water had run out half way through and the bath was now only slightly warm. I got in anyway, praying that it would be enough to stop the chill, but of course, it only made things worse. Now I was wet and cold. I pulled a bath towel into the tub with me and tried to wrap up in it. Very intelligent decision.
Mom found me that way when she got back, tried not to laugh at me, and helped me out of the tub. I was so cold and sore, I couldn't stand up straight, much less move. Mom dried me off like I was 9 again, put me in some of her sweats, and put me in bed.
Ridiculous day.
The rest of the weekend was a milder version of the same, but by Monday all symptoms had subsided except for the nausea and vomiting. By Tuesday I was again skeptical that my symptoms had been strictly flu related. I bought a pregnancy test.
I had thought a lot before about how I would tell my husband when I found out I was pregnant for the first time. I had always kind of hoped that it would fall near Father's Day so I could buy him a card and present and wait for him to understand why.
Yesterday, however, I thought of nothing clever. I was so overwhelmed and shocked and thrilled and amazed at that bright red line, I lost all of my words. I found Justin in the garage working on his motorcycle and I just blurted it out. "Babe, I'm pregnant." He responded about the way I had - dumbfounded, confused, excited, terrified, speechless. I started giggling and then couldn't stop. The more the truth of it sank into me the more I felt like I was going to burst or spillover or overflow. And so I giggled. And giggled. And giggled.
Justin asked if I was sure. I told him I had only taken one test and that I would take another one in the morning, to which he responded by saying to himself, "Right. Don't get excited." and my heart melted.
He is going to be such a great Dad. I've known it about him since I met him. I remember very distinctly thinking, "Please be the Father of my children." That was nearly four years ago.
I can't believe it's finally about to happen.
Everything is different now.