Panic

A few days ago I arrived home to a package tucked strategically under my garage overhang in an effort by the FedEx man (albeit a feeble one) to shield it from the pouring rain.  Seeing as my husband and I utilize online shopping to buy such mundane things as lotion, vitamins, and razors, coming home to a package at my front door (or garage door) is nothing that out of the norm.  But this was a BIG box.  And unlike most of our Amazon orders, this one was addressed to me.

As I hauled the box up my basement stairs into the light of the kitchen, I was perplexed.  I hadn’t ordered anything – certainly not anything of this size.  Without so much as removing my dripping wet coat or setting down my purse, I grabbed the nearest pair of scissors I could find and carefully sliced the tape holding the soaked cardboard box closed.  There, shrouded under what must have been 20 feet of brown packing paper, was the bouncer chair I had spent HOURS researching, reviewing, and agonizing over before finally adding to my registry.

As I pulled the bouncer box out of the FedEx packaging that was now forming an undesirable puddle on my hardwood floors, I leaned it against the wall and studied it for a good 90 seconds before I realized I wasn’t breathing.  I was unconsciously rubbing my bulging belly, mesmerized by this smiling happy baby on the front of the box.

“Holy crap we’re having a baby…”

They were the only words that would form as I struggled to process what was now sitting in my kitchen, staring back at me.

We had already received our crib and mattress from my parents, but they were still boxed up in their cardboard packaging, almost invisible to the naked eye as they leaned against the walls in our guest bedroom, hidden behind closed doors.  My in-laws bought me the most beautiful Coach diaper bag for Christmas, but it was tucked safely in Junior’s closet.  Our nursery was taking form with paint, mouldings and light fixtures thanks to my husband’s diligent weekend efforts, but the door remained mostly closed when it wasn’t being worked on, and in my present state I was not often present when work was going on.

I’d seen the ultrasounds, had numerous doctor visits, felt the kicks, jumps and pokes from within my expanding belly, spent hours googling and researching every last item added to our baby registry,  and discussed potential names for our son at length with my husband…

And yet, at 31 weeks pregnant, well into my third trimester and running the home stretch of this pregnancy, I felt the need to sit down and steady myself at the site of this little bouncer chair, this smiling baby staring back at me from the cover of the box.

I’m having a baby.  My FIRST baby.  A son.  And he will be here soon.

I snapped a picture of the box and sent it to my husband’s cell phone.  “This just arrived.  I think I just realized that we’re actually having a baby.”

… the response?  “You’re ridiculous.”

I suddenly saw my house overflowing with baby gadgets, burp clothes and teething toys, and the silence I’d grown so accustomed to being perforated by the cries of a newborn baby.  And as I weighed these thoughts in my mind, the terror that originally gripped my heart and mind slowly melted away into a new sensation.

And I marveled at the beauty of the thought:

I’m having a baby.  A SON.  And he’ll be here soon…