Well, this is it, today is the big day. It’s an odd thing to know precisely when your baby is going to be born. Not anything like I had anticipated, because you know. I mean, you deal with strange questions like: how do I dress for a delivery? Normally when things just “happen” you don’t have as much time to ponder over such frivolities.
Anyhow, I managed to find something to wear, as did Jessica, so it’s now off to the hospital with us to meet our son. I’m writing him a letter—some important things that I’ll share with him when he gets much older. The day is full of so much emotion: fear, excitement, anticipation, dreams. People have been experiencing this for ages past, but today—today I’m experiencing it for the first time.
I’ve been imagining trauma our newborn son has in store. He’s been listening to low, muffled tones, cradled in dark warmth and closeness; now suddenly he’ll be pulled from his cocoon beneath bright operating table lights into a world that’s cold and loud and unfamiliar. And then we’ll wrap him up as tight as we can, hold him close to us and try to bring back that warmth and closeness, this time outside the womb.
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