Something is missing around here....

So roughly six weeks or so to go before we add another to our bunch. I've started to become acutely aware of what that means for me, in particular. I have a friend coming down from Maryland to go into the delivery room, wish the other friend from MD could be here too, but her husband's schedule is a bit hairy. I decided I can do this with a friend if I didn't have to look them in the eye very often afterward, since they will ultimately be exposed to a lot of me. Lots. Phone conversations, great. Chatting over the fence daily knowing she may have flashbacks of exposure, not wonderful.

As far as home, I am happy to say that Lori will be here with the older three (and me) for a bit before Henry arrives, which leads me to believe we will be able to hammer out a routine before the delivery. My neighbors are truly wonderful and can be called upon if needed, so that adds to the reassuring list. I realize how very fortunate I am, it just feels like something instrumental is missing. Sure, of course it is Erik but it's more than that.

I am not great at being vulnerable with witnesses around. I would rather keep tears inside my body, where they have a place moisturizing my eyes and not my cheeks. I would rather not lose control in the presence of individuals other than Erik and the kids. Now I'm not talking about a tantrum of screaming and ranting about behaviors that are undesirable, but the feeling that the bottom has dropped out. For all you ladies out there, this comes around 8cm dilation without pain meds, discovering your child really hurt another intentionally, making a verbal faux pas that affects a friendship, the moment you realize your husband is really on a deployment, etc. That feeling.

I believe what is missing is excitement. Pure, innocent, excitement. Of the past three impending births, I was quite excited in good and bad ways. By bad I mean so excitable I was anxious. What has always trumped the anxiety was remembering how Erik handled the situation before. (Now, Wes was just an unusual birth so that is somewhat discarded.) But after the baby comes and we are all transitioning, the actions and motions Erik goes through are so deliberate, predictable and soothing. I simply adore these qualities in him. Erik is my foundation, someone I rely on to bring reason to me when I am irrational.

I wish he could write a set of directions for the nurses and doctors that will treat me and the kid. "No unnecessary talking. Be firm but not a dictator with requests/directives. Give all information, no matter how terrible, but answer questions. Unless absolutely necessary, hands off. Roughly 24hrs after birth there will be a hormone crash, alert your staff that there will be many tears, requests of being discharged immediately, and much pacing... the best way to handle this is to sit and watch. By no means should you take the baby away without a detailed list of where he will go and who will be touching him, you will avoid tense and terse words when you return."

I will be missing my foundation. It will be difficult to be strong missing a foundation.