We were at the mall one night, and he saw a pair of pink Chuck Taylors. He laughed and said he should get some since everyone loved his pink laces so much. They didn't have any in his size.
When I got home, I found some online and ordered them. When he opened them, he laughed hysterically. He didn't think I would remember. Or that I would actually get them. He wore those things everywhere.
We have sorta been at odds with each other lately, especially over the baby. He is terrified that something will go wrong again. He is even more terrified that he will get attached to another baby that he will have to say goodbye to. I'm trying to stay optimistic. To the point of not letting myself think about the reality of babies dying. I feel like I'm not being a good mother if I can't at least be a little excited instead of dwelling on all those what if's.
When I was at Kohl's last week, I tried to distract myself from that horrible fall by looking through baby stuff for an upcoming baby shower. Even though I was looking for someone else, I saw so many things I wanted to get this baby. I kept hearing Bryan's words though. That it's too early. That I need to slow down because I might not even bring this baby home.
And then I saw these.
Itty bitty baby Chucks.
I remembered Bryan in his pink Chucks, and for a minute I pictured Daddy and baby both wearing their Chucks together. I think I might have actually squealed with excitement.
I hesitated for a few more minutes because I knew Bryan would probably think it wasn't a good idea.
But then I thought about it. This baby could die tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week. But so could Bryan. Or my parents. Or my sister. I don't love any of them any less. So why should I love my baby any less? Why should I not enjoy every minute of this tiny life, regardless of how long it's here with me?
So here's to making this pregnancy a good one...and finding some balance between excited expecting mother and neurotic pregnant lady.
Baby steps, right?
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