...although that might change after what they did to me at my OB appointment this morning. I'll spare you the details, but I made what Ryan described as "the most horrible face he's ever seen anyone make" while they were doing it and as soon as the doctor was out of the room Ryan ran to me and hugged me tightly. Ryan said he was proud of me for not saying to Dr. O "So now are you going to baste me and put me back in the oven?" Everything is still "go" for next week. We will go into the hospital Wednesday night to get everything started and hopefully sometime Thursday we'll get to meet the little guy.
Last night, despite being totally exhausted, my brain would not calm down enough for me to sleep. I had to get up and work on removing bad data from my hurricane database for a couple of hours before I was able to face my bed again. Although I know logically that it's not true, some combination of my horomones and subconsious have been telling me that I have one week left to do everything important that has to be done before January--plan Charlie's Christening, just when the #$%# am I going to go Christmas shopping, find a way to disarm North Korea.
(Actually I would be a little less concerned about my own mental state if I was up at night worrying about North Korea or Iran or even freaking Congressman Foley)
But instead I lie in bed awake obsessing because we haven't picked God-parents yet and we don't have a Christening gown yet. I settled the date for the baptism with the church, (MIDDLE OF DECEMBER, BRAIN, CALM DOWN!!) yesterday, so I had it on my mind when I went to bed. When I complained that the boys' Christening selection in Lubbock was limited to miniature white tuxedos and full-on Pope outfits (a little much for our Methodist church) my mom said "Oh honey you were baptized in a white Gerber t-shirt and a diaper." I want to scream "I KNOW I'M BEING UNREASONABLE BUT I JUST CAN'T HELP MYSELF!" I even have the Christening outfit all picked out online and all I have to do is push "Add to Cart" and the matter will be settled.
Meanwhile, Ryan, the voice of reason thank goodness, keeps telling me how much time we have and not to worry, but my brain doesn't respond to reason anymore. It responds to to-do lists with check marks. It's like I have some biological need pushing me to do things for the baby. It's frustrating to have no control over your own brain. I'm sure it's even more frustrating to Ryan who has to be wondering what happened to his laid-back wife and if she'll ever come back again. Watch out, you never know where the OCD will take me next. Obsessive cleaning? Manic midnight baking?
Deep breaths. OK. Back to my to-do list.