October 20 was Little Brother’s due date. Like his brother, he was born five days after his due date.
I’m terrible at being pregnant. They really should send me away from society during the 10-month
torture gestation. I was sick in all kinds of ways that I won’t make you read about.
Then my family wanted to go to Sea World. I did not want to go to a theme park when I was 40 weeks and 4 days pregnant and push around my 35 pound son through a hoard of tourists who can’t walk in a timely fashion on the correct side of the sidewalk.
But they were adamant, so I went. I don’t think even they had ever seen me so cranky. I was ready to run that stroller over anyone who got in my way without batting an eye. But I didn’t.
Then the contractions started the next morning and Little Brother came into this world. He is a thrill-seeker and wants to do everything Big Brother does. He’s already been walking for a few weeks. He climbs up on chairs, couches and Big Brother’s bed. He loves to roar like a dinosaur and quack like a duck. He pulls on the hairs at his forehead to soothe himself. His favorite game is to say “uh-oh” and then drop things on the floor. He weighs 25 pounds and wraps his arms all the way around my neck when I pick him up. He likes to play in the toilet. He claps when we pray.
For 10 months, everything revolved around October 20. It was all I could think about. After October 20 I would start to feel normal again. Sure, everything would change, but at least I could sleep on my back and drink a glass of wine again.
October 20, 2014 came and went. And I didn’t even remember it was his due date today until I counted back from his birthday. Because now all that matters is that he was born.
And I love Sea World.