It feels weird to answer that I’m due in X days when anyone asks. It’s no longer months or even weeks.
Six days. A week.
At least technically. I know it can still be weeks. The “any day now” mentality is tough for me. I’m not the most organized planner, but I do like calendars and knowing how much time I have to prepare. The fact that life is going to change for Sean and I and we don’t know exactly when is tough to wrap my head around especially less than a year after we planned our wedding.
Last July we were tracking RSVPs and in the final two months of wedding prep. We still had a lot of planning to do in mid-July, but we knew that we would be getting married on September 15th.
It’s not like that with Meatball. He can show up on the 25th — highly unlikely — or days/weeks before or after. Who knows.
My mom has her hopes set on the 29th so he can be the first of Papá Chepe’s dozens of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren to share his birthdate. I thought it would be neat if he shared Sean’s birthday. Sean didn’t think so. Maybe he’ll be a 31st baby like me or he’ll show up on his grandparents’ 36th wedding anniversary.
Whatever the day, I have a feeling it will be like the lyrics in “Las Mañanitas.”
El día en que tú naciste
Nacieron todas las flores
(On the day you were born
All the flowers blossomed)
They’ll ring truer than ever.