(that is what we are)
In case it slipped past you, the title of this post is inspired by the immortal words of the Brothers Gibb (and by the silver throats of Dolly Parton & Kenny Rogers) (and apparently by a novel I’ve never read by Earnest Hemingway).*
Tomorrow Kate and I will learn the sex of our baby.
A single bit of information so succinct it can be expressed in a word.
But the ripples, the impact of this word will be felt so long and so deeply, that it will seem as if life could never have been any other way.
At this moment though, at 8:12 pm the night before, it could go either way.
Will I pee at a trough in the bathroom with our son at the concert?
Will I pick up a pizza for our daughter’s slumber party?
At this point, we don’t know (though I’d put money on pizza being involved).
And right now it feels important to take in where we are – on the edge of something strange and awesome.
For the past 4 years, there has only been Kate and me.
When I first started dating Kate, I felt kind of like I feel now – again, strange and awesome. When I realized that I loved Kate and wanted to spend my life with her – that single bit of information seemed vast and overwhelming. Now, it is so fundamental in my life – I can’t imagine any other way of being.
Now there will be a 3rd member of our family. Who is this person? What will they be like?
The first veil comes off tomorrow at 11:30 am, and I can tell you – it feels strange and awesome. More awesome.
* * * * * * * * *
I could have ended the post there. That would have been a nice ending, don’t you think?
But there’s a bit more.
Since we found out that Kate is pregnant, most of our emotional energy has been put into experiencing and processing that information. (Again, “pregnant” – one word, big impact. Sensing a theme?)
Mostly these past 20 weeks we’ve been in awe of Kate’s body. Like a clown car, the proportions are cartoonish but its roomier than you think inside.
But now Kate’s through the sickness, and we can finally take a little breather and look ahead. What we see doesn’t look much like where we are now. In fact, it looks a lot different. Like – imagine if Dorothy had landed on Mars.
To put it simply – its finally sinking in. Life is going to be different. Our patterns, our routines, the things we think about, the things we say, the things we don’t say – all out the window.
Of course, we will be the same – but in that way where we’re not really the same. For instance, think about yourself in high school. That’s you – but at the same time, its not you.
Its not so much that I’m worried about this stuff, because I tend not to worry about things I can’t control. And in this particular instance, nothing feels wrong. In fact, things feel pretty right. Like this is where we’re supposed to be.
But it is scary, like going to a new school is scary, or moving in with your girlfriend is scary.
Except multiplied times a billion.
The saying goodbye to the old way multiplied times a billion, and the saying hello to the new way multiplied times a billion. The numbers are undeniable – we’re feeling the change a lot right now.
But at the same time that its scary, its also made us poke our little heads out from our foxhole & notice that we’ve got it really good right now. Not only do we have it good, but we’ve had it good since the beginning.
Its not that I didn’t know this. But I had forgotten to remember it. Spending these years just me and Kate has been a gift.
So for tonight, we’ll settle into the couch, watch some tv, do the dishes, maybe play some music, and hang out in bed for a while. Kate will fall asleep reading.
Yes – tonight we’ll be islands in the stream – sitting tight in the old way while the new way moves in all around us.
Tomorrow…..boy or girl…..
We rely on each other, ah-ah.
*post nearly titled “The Ultrasound of Music”