So it is no longer Cocoa Bean. It is unofficially Cocoa Kicker. We have cleared yet another hurdle as we approach 22 weeks and the clinical definition of cervical incompetence is about to pass. We are officially in the panic mode of preparation for arrival. Cocoa is very active and while our third child, my first experience to actually touch my wife's belly and to feel that kick that we've needed to feel for too long.
Previously, we spent 20 weeks getting ready for everything psychologically. How will schedules change, what will we do with the rooms in our house, what will be our next phase in our lives as our Cocoa enters the world. It all came crashing down two times before so now that we have passed that big stage, we now are on fast forward. We can no longer and sit back and hold our collective breath as we have done for the last five months, we now need to cram 40 weeks of preparation into four short months.
I still think a lot out our two boys. I also reflect on many people that have shared similar voyages. How do our friends in Florida feel as they are about 16 months behind us in our journey? Are they holding strong despite their upbeat outward disposition? What about my great childhood friend that was on the verge of twins only to face a loss two times over? How do they cope with two already running wild and their next attempt on the way? I find condolence in knowing many have done it before us and many more are well on their way of also realizing their dream.
While we may not have all of the appropriate equipment prepared...poop stations, barf cleanup kits, and all of the other unexpected things that I am sure we will soon need, I am confident that we are prepared. We have been ready for this for almost three years now so our extended impediment will only make us more capable, prepared, and understanding as people and more importantly as parents.
That being said, is there a Cliff Notes for what to do when Cocoa actually gets here pertaining to the formerly referenced poop, vomit, and crying?
E-I-G-H-T!?!?
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Eight. 8. Ocho. Anyway you say it, I don't like it. Eight definitely
removes any chances of being called a baby. Eight means going into third
grade. E...
13 years ago