For Future Reference

This afternoon we are headed back up to Minnesota. Brittany, my cousin-in-law, is being induced tomorrow morning and we are determined to be there for the birth of our godson. I’ve been invited to be in the delivery room! Zack has been invited as far as the waiting area, which is just fine with him. He will be our errand runner/delivery boy/connection to the outside world.

So, the delivery room. I need to talk this out. I am nervous and excited. Nervous because I am afraid what I’m going to witness is going to scare me into not wanting babies. But then I think about how much I want a baby RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW OMG AAAIIIIEEEE! and I can’t imagine anything swaying me from that desire, even watching a human being expelled from someone’s ladyparts. Also nervous because Internet, I do not do well with pain. I am a wuss. I am afraid that seeing Britt in that kind of intense pain is going to turn me completely useless at a time when she will need all the support and attention I can muster.

When I was teaching preschool one of my favorite kids, a wide-eyed, cuddly boy named Cooper, smashed his finger in a door on his way out of the school. Oh, he smashed it hardcore, we’re talking black fingertip and nail falling off and everything. It was ugly. His mom rushed him back to my (thankfully, now empty) classroom and he was SHRIEKING IN AGONY. And I…magically kept it together. I am not sure how that even happened, but I was able to First-Aid the shit out of that boo-boo and by the time I sent Coop on his way he was calm and even smiling a little, ready to show off his Disney band-aid to anyone who’d look.

So despite my initial inclination toward panic over my ineptitude, I think I am probably actually better equipped to deal with pain than I give myself credit for being. I know that smashing your finger is nothing compared to birthing a child, but my point was that I didn’t even have to talk myself up to the task when the time came to act. I think when you love somebody and they are in pain, it’s easier to put their needs ahead of your own than you might imagine.  I am holding on to that, counting on it. I’m going to make it my reality.

But! This post isn’t all about me doing some verbal pacing. I have been in no way forced or cajoled into agreeing to be in the delivery room. I want to be there. It’s an honor and a privilege and I’ve definitely not lost sight of that.  I’ve been invited to share in the biggest day of Brittany’s life! In the first moments of my godson’s life! That is immeasurably awesome.

I am beside myself excited to hear his name. I know Britt has narrowed it down to a few choices and is waiting to meet the little guy before making a final decision. I can’t wait to see what color hair he has, and to marvel over his tiny fingers and munchable toes. And ohhhh, BABY SMELL.

It’s going to be amazing.

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