photo credit: Emily Snitzer
I can't remember the exact day, or where I was when I really and truly knew that Hank was it for me. But there it was; a very distinct divide between "then" and "now," and although yes, of course there was everything before, life almost didn't seem to start until I met him. And then with Henry, I remember sitting in the green chair in his room, rocking him to sleep one night, and thinking how odd it was that life could have ever felt complete before him. It's funny, isn't it? How these puzzle pieces come clicking into our lives, sometimes unexpectedly, sometimes not, but when they fit and they're in place, it just feels right. The "ohh yes, this is what life is, this is how it's supposed to go."
For the past almost three years Hank and I have had the privilege of spending our minutes and hours and days with our Henry. When he came into this world on that November morning, we knew everything would change in an instant, and of course, it did. But we weren't really prepared for how beautiful life can be when you have this little light, this perfect person full of only love, that is suddenly a part of everything you do. It's amazing, really. And I think back over these past years in awe of the three of us- each of us learning and growing into these new roles: a mother, a father, and a newborn-turned-baby-turned-toddler-turned little boy. We've spent these last few year all together, and now in just three short weeks, there will be one more person to add to our brood. A fourth. And just like that, life goes on a-changing.
And of course along with the gushing and the excited anticipation and the overly-sentimental paragraphs, comes a lot of nervousness. A lot. We've been "just the three of us" for awhile now, and we have it down. On good days it's easy, and on bad days it's not really too bad at all. Henry and I have our routines and our schedules. We know how to get things done, and we do it efficiently (most of the time). When we go grocery shopping it's an easy task- out of the car, into the cart, into the store, and out again. But now my mind is swirling with the "how will I evers" and the "how will that works," and on many occasions I've run scenarios like these through in my mind; "okay, get a cart, bring it over to the car, put Charlie in the wrap, get Henry, put him in the cart, food shop- that can't be so hard, right?" It's the little things like this make me slightly nervous- the everyday tasks that seem so simple now that I know will become more complicated. But at the very same time, in the very same thought, I think about how before Henry I felt that way, and how now it's just second nature. New becomes familiar, and soon it's hard to ever imagine anything different.
But above all, there's a sense of adventure that is superseding all of it- all of the sentimentality, the nervousness. Past the silly nerves or the apprehension at the unknown there's the simple joy in the fact that so soon, one will become two. My sons. And yes, it's scary as hell to feel like we're jumping head first from comfortable and pretty easy into a whole new world of possible chaos, but it's more exciting. Much more. More of everything really.
And so now we have three weeks left, just the three of us. Soon our fourth will join us, and soon I'll be right here in this space, writing about how I never could have imagined the world without him here. Because that's how life works. You think you have it all figured out, and then in an instant, everything changes. In my case, our son will be arriving and our family is about to grow bigger; one, two, three, four. This page in our book is turning, and all of it- the excitement, the nervousness, the fear, the joys- it's all such a beautiful, beautiful thing.