If one more person asks me if I’m ‘ready’ I might scream.
Of course I’m ready.
Of course I’m not ready.
I don’t think anybody is ‘ready’ to become a parent. I assume. You can be the most organised, prepared, twenty-thousand-onesies-washed-and-folded ‘ready’ and you still won’t be ‘ready’. What a ridiculous question.
So am I ready? Please don’t ask me that.
In all seriousness…I *think* we’re as ready in the materialistic/practical sense that we can be – the kind of ready where the baby has somewhere to sleep, some clothes to wear, a place to be bathed. Our child won’t be cold, or hungry (I hope), or unsafe. We have a car capsule, a bath, a bassinet, a cot for later, a baby swing, newborn nappies, a few newborn sized cloth nappies, heavy blankets, light blankets, stretchy blankets, muslin blankets, knitted booties, little socks, singlets galore. We have my sisters pram that has served her well for three children, we’re looking at getting a new pram also so we can have a ‘farm-vehicle’ and a ‘town-vehicle’. We have lansolin, stress balls for the birth, little hooded towels, baby sleepytime massage oil, a snazzy nappy bag, an even snazzier feeding pillow, a baby wrap carrier, an Ergo carrier, a sling carrier. I’d say we’re ready. Whatever on Earth that is.
…in my baby brain fog, tell me people of the internet, tell me – what am I forgetting? What was that one thing that you were so incredibly grateful, thanking your lucky stars, you had on hand or in your ‘readiness-repertoire’ of new motherhood haze. What was that thing you were sending your husband/mum/sister/friend out to the shops to grab after you gave birth to this wrinkly snuffly little human? What am I forgetting? What should I have in my baby-arsenal that I don’t?
Because, let’s face it, today I’m 36 weeks pregnant and this baby is coming.
‘Ready’ or not.