Each month milestone thus far has warranted something exactly like, "I AM 6 MONTHS PREGNANT!!! How legit does that sound???!" And the enthusiasm and repetition has only exponentially increased with 7, 8, and 9. Dearest Alex never hears the end of it. And with it, I have been quite the checklister these days.
Frozen meals smashed into our little freezer. CHECK.
Planning sleep schedule (which probably won't work) CHECK.
Cleaning out infant carseat, swing, and rocker CHECK.
Homemade padsicles- also smashed into our little freezer CHECK.
Buying girl things, size 1 diapers, a noise machine, and too much more CHECK.
But there is one thing that I can't bring myself to do, the same thing I couldn't bring myself to prepare until a few hours before Liam was actually born.
The hospital bag.
DUN DUN DUN. It is so scary to me. So final. Dare I say ominous?
I don't know why, because you'd think it would be best part. I've been counting down the days until I first saw that pregnancy test. And have become much more anxious for that day since I passed through the seemingly endless nausea, aching body, and adorable baby girl clothes. It isn't even the labor that I'm scared about- actually this time around I feel much more prepared emotionally and mentally.
But something about it makes me feel overwhelmed and emotional. So, hospital bag, we will discuss it again next week when I slyly ignore you (yet again) on my checklist.
