The end of the wait

All the excitement, the planning, the anticipation, the fears and stresses, everything that obscured the fact that this child thing is really happening, all that went away around noon today, at the induction prep. The balloon went in, we went home, and all of a sudden it became clear: tomorrow morning the labor would begin. Guaranteed. No more waiting.

Until now it's been a bit of a joke, we could laugh about the fact that we have everything (and I mean, EVERYTHING) bought and prepped, except Toby. The car seat I've been driving around with for a few months now, the crib, the bed, the changing table, the clothes, the diapers, the bottles, toys, rash lotions, the list goes on. But no Toby. Tomorrow, that changes.

I've always felt ready, but even my resolve wavers when I internalize the fact that the whole 40-week process is coming to an end, and that tomorrow I will see my son. Sylwia's freaking out a bit, and I don't blame her. After all, she's the one who now has to actually go through it, and she's on a timeline as well. Nature is no longer being left to take its course. There's a disturbing finality to it, when you're not letting labor happen naturally. It's like the kid is a PM already, demanding a schedule, a timeline, a milestone exit criterion, in order to arrive.

It's Thursday evening, and we're one night away from not being able to relax and stop worrying for the next few decades. If ever. More to come...