It occurs to me that since announcing Ger's pregnancy a while back I haven't really talked about it much. This may seem kind of weird, since I wrote about Ger's first pregnancy every week leading up to Samantha's birth. I also obsessively read books, scoured websites, went to classes on parenting, and watched horrifying movies about the birthing process.
But the thing is, I've kind of been there, seen that. Not that I'm a superparent or anything, but the terrifying air of mystery and uncertainty kind of dissipates when you live through it. Even just once. And Sam is fine, so I figure if we just do what we did with her the new kid will be fine. Or at least no worse off. This isn't to say that we're being blase about the pregnancy. Geralyn is still taking wonderful care of herself --eating well, getting as much rest as she can (though she'd probably like more than Sam's nap schedule allows), and going to the doctor regularly. Plus she hasn't started doing cocaine or skydiving or doing cocaine while skydiving. There's no problems there.
What I'm actually kind of worried about is what will happen after the baby arrives, since I've got no experience with splitting attention between two miniature people. This concern goes back to our cat. You see, we have a cat, which I actually got well before I got married much less had Sam. When I first got the cat, I lavished him with attention, missed him when I was gone, and outside of one unfortunate time when he peed blood in my laundry basket because I fed him super cheap cat food ("80% ash free!") I took good care of him. That kind of changed once Samantha came along. Now when he pads into the room half the time I look over at him and say "We have a cat? When did we get a cat?" He, in turn, usually just glares at me, probably wishing that someone would clean the mother clucking litter box.
Not that Sam would let either of us forget to clean her litter box, but I do forsee some rough roads ahead as we have to give her less of our dwindling time and attention. Perhaps things will eventually sort themselves out once the new kid is old enough to play with Sam, who in turn should be old enough to, you know, not endanger her sister if left alone with her. But then I'm afraid that Sam will clue in to some kind of pyramid scheme, and next thing I know she has every kid in the neighborhood working for her. She's just that sly.
As far as names go, we have a short list of about six that we're keeping close to our vest. We even have an emergency boy name picked out in case of a surprise in the delivery room. I'm not saying what the names are, though. I'm not sure why, but we just don't want to disclose them, even to family members. Maybe we fear that they'll be stolen or that someone will tell us "Oh, I knew an axe murderer-slash-prostitute with that name" and totally ruin it for us. The other night Geralyn was at her prenatal yoga class when the instructor was chit-chatting with her and asked what she intended to name the baby. Ger's eyes narrowed to slits and she looked at the woman askance for a moment before replying "We hadn't really thought about it." Ger apparently gave all the right nonverbal cues to communicate "Shut your question hole, lady," and and the rest of the class proceeded in uncomfortable silence. But I guess we'll have to go public with it eventually. The child at least should know.
So, anyway, the baby is fine according to the doctor who takes our insurance company's money every week. Due date is still in mid to late December (holy crap, that's soon!) and we're still getting prepared. The nursery is set up and we've started stocking up on diapers and clothes (having another girl means free hand-me-downs!), but I still can't shake the feeling that we're overlooking something, something critical that the first day we get home we're gonig to be like "OH MY GOD WE FORGOT TO BUY A ____________!" And, of course, I'll be the one running out to the local Walgreens or Home Depot or the Yankee Doodle Candle Company at 11:30 p.m. trying to find one lest the baby be forever stunted or traumatized. Can anybody tell me what that's going to be? 'Cause I'd really appreciate it.