Each morning, you think this is the day. And at the end of the day, there's a palpable sense of disappointment. It's not something we want to be with the little fella. We know that he'll come out when he's good and ready (or when we're good and ready to start the process on his behalf).
But still. When countless people tell you that the second one always comes early, even being on time feels late. So late feels otherworldly late.
For about a week now (almost mirroring the lateness), Autumn hasn't been sleeping well. When we put her down, she's taken to throwing everything out of her crib, and then crying for the very things she tossed out of her crib.
Pillow goes to the floor, and seconds later, she's crying for her pillow. So, on Monday night I asked her what was up. She cried: "Baby coming."
Now, you can take that one of two ways.
The first, she's pissed off that a baby is coming. She's acting out to get attention because the baby is coming to knock her off the only child pedestal. And that just might be the right answer to the nightly kerfuffle.
But there's another way to look at things (hint, there always is another way to look at things).
Autumn doesn't often use words like when, where, what. Sure, she says things like "Wha dat?", and "Where Mommy?". But what is she was actually saying "Baby coming?" as in,
"when's baby coming?"
She's a clever girl. And I think she can sense the impatience of her mommy and daddy. And that impatience is leading to frustration (at times). And perhaps she's then feeding off the frustration we're experiencing. She doesn't know how to verbalize this frustration, so she uses the action she has come to associate this feeling: namely, tossing things.
When thought of this way, we're a complete unit waiting on a little boy. Buddy, we can't wait to meet ya.