Something crazy happened today, somehow without any preparedness, 30 weeks of pregnancy hit. We are officially in the countdown phase. If Baby P arrives on his due date, we have 69 short days left as a family of three. We have nine more Saturdays, and four more library visits.
I'm not ready.
I'm so excited for little P to get here. I can't wait to see his face and to decide who he looks like. I am anxious to see him in all of Paxton's tiny newborn jammies (and a couple pairs of his own) and watch Pax meet his new baby brother. I am ready to see what lies ahead as I adjust to life with two little boys.
But I'm not finished with Pax being an only child. I'm not done grabbing one diaper and a pack of fruit snacks and being ready to tackle any errand. I'm not finished with Paxton laughing hysterically as he shows off some crazy toddler trick and revels in having Mommy and Daddy's full attention. I'm not ready to be finished dropping everything and cuddling up with my toddler every time he brings me a book.
These are the weeks I need to absorb my little toddler and let him savor every sweet moment of having his mommy to himself.
We also need to get busy baby shopping and laundry washing and double stroller testing. Baby P deserves to come home to a house that is just as ready for him as it was for Paxton.
So for now, I'm making a promise to myself to enjoy every second of these last ten weeks before our family and our hearts grow by one tiny little Miller boy.
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