Waiting for my life to change is a strange experience. I feel like we are sitting at the gate right now about to board a plane to go on an adventure. An adventure with an unknown ending, hell even an unknown middle. Really the only thing I know is the beginning. There will be a child, then everything else will happen.

But right now it’s just “What can I get you? Are you hungry? Are you comfortable? Here let me carry that,” and all the other external things I can do to make her life a little bit easier. But I can’t relieve the nausea, and I can’t go pee for her, and I can’t have the baby for her, so really I’m just in charge of everything else. Unfortunately ‘everything else’ is just window dressing to the main event.

I guess what is going to be the most surprising is that after this whole waiting around at the gate and then slowly boarding the plane and then the taxi out to the runway of birth–where the contractions live–that at some point the plane will take off (that launch being the birth itself) and that while we are flying along with our new child in our arms we’ll realize this plane has no pilots except for us and our only training so far has been watching other people fly their little newborns through the world. Hopefully our parental autopilot is in good working order and we can all sit back and enjoy the ride. Obviously, though, I expect some turbulence on this journey.  If only enough to keep it interesting.