On Wednesday I went to the doctor. I had to drink that disgusting super-sugar soda stuff and immediately gave me gut rot. “Oh sure, I’ll drink this gross soda and then you can take my blood. Good times.” As I was leaving, my doctor casually mentioned that I needed to make my next appointment for two weeks instead of four.
Immediately my neck started itching and I couldn’t stop scratching it. We all know what that means…things are cool when your appointments are four weeks apart. We can handle four. But when they start getting closer together?? That means the countdown has begun. My mind started to spin…more neck scratching. I have nothing for this baby yet. We got rid of everything when we moved. I don’t even have a Onesie for crying in the night (which is not a funny pun right now.) Scratch scratch. Every plan that there ever was is all floating around in space somewhere and we are completely planless at the moment. Our lease is up on April 1 and this child is coming April 16…more neck scratching.
This is so not me. I am organized. I have things ready. I have things prepared. Is this the lesson in all this?? That I need to learn I’m not in control?? Well, I get it. And although I’m super stoked about refining my character and all that, I need to have a little more semblance of normalcy than this.
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I am bending the truth slightly, I have done a few things to get ready for Spring Chick. I started a registry on Target.com. It may be totally random and have no rhyme or reason to any of it, but that’s not the point…I did it. I found a monitor on clearance at Target for $35, originally $120. Yeah! Monitor…check. A sweet older lady from church gave me a bassinet. Sleeping arrangement better than an empty drawer…check check. Luckily I like things simple anyway. I don’t need a ton of gadgets for a baby, just some diapers and a bottle or two.
A simple voicemail from a friend and a chat with another helped me stop scratching and realize that yes, things will shake out. If worse comes to worse I can always swing by Target on my way to the hospital and grab a car seat so they’ll let me take bébé home to it’s better-than-a-drawer bassinet.
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I feel better already confessing my panic attack. I’m guessing many of you have been there too, right??? If not, don’t tell me. I might start scratching again.
Ok, I must go recover the 14 post-it note lists that I’ve stuck all over my house and since lost.