Monday, May 12, 2014
Let the Baby Countdown Begin!
Delta in-air wifi rocks!
I am currently 38,000 feet above you as I write this post. Jimmi and I left New Jersey about 30 minutes ago and we are en route to Minneapolis, the first of two flights taking us closer to our baby.
It's crazy to think that we left NJ as a couple and we won't return until we're parents.
Aria's anticipated arrival date is six days from now. Of course, she will make her appearance whenever she is ready, which could be at any moment. My mom is counting on the full moon to bring her out on Wednesday, but I have a feeling she's gonna make us wait until the 20th, two days after her due date. Honestly, as long as she's healthy and Jimmi is there to experience her birth, and not out on tour, I don't care when she comes out! Though, my nerves would prefer sooner than later.
I spent Mother's Day with my boys, Dylan and Justin, yesterday. They made me breakfast in bed and, later, performed a song they wrote for me on drums and guitar. (Watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1vT75C-IT0) When the evening drew near they packed up some belongings and we headed over to their dad's house. It's a trip I've made a few times a week for years, but this time was different. When I hugged and kissed them each goodbye, this time, I had no idea when I'd be back to pick them up again. I couldn't say, "See you in a week!" with any certainty because, quite honestly, we could be gone anywhere from three days to three weeks. The thought of three weeks away from my boys made me cringe as I backed out of their dad's driveway.
And packing for an non-specific amount of time wasn't easy either. I shoved every pair of underwear and socks I own into the suitcase, along with some jeans, capri pants, t-shirts, sweatshirts, 3/4 sleeved tops, pajamas, a baby book that I assume I'll have time to fill out, a few baby blankets, too many toiletries, a hairdryer and one extra pair of shoes. I looked at the tan and pink-flowered, Petunia Pickle Bottom diaper bag stuffed with diapers, wipes, burp cloths, onesies, terrycloth footsies, pink hats, pacifiers, pacifier wipes, hand sanitizer and nipples for nursette bottles we'll buy in Minnesota, and realized the plan I had of squeezing the baby bag into my already busting suitcase was falling apart quickly. I'd just have to carry it on. It's not weird to bring a diaper bag onto a plane without a baby, is it?
I finally settled into bed at about 1:00 AM, knowing I wouldn't be able to shut my brain off long enough to attempt sleeping for the four hours I had before my alarm would ring. I allowed my mind to wander off and thoughts of my baby girl, Aria, instantly filled my head. That's when I realized how much my baby's birth will mean to so many people.
Yes, obviously, Jimmi and my families are anxiously awaiting their newest member, but I'm going much deeper than that. I'm proud to say that my little Aria has become a silent symbol of hope for a much larger group. I know I've mentioned I'm a member of an online support group for women who have, or have had, my rare type of cancer, small (or large) cell neuroendocrine carcinoma of the cervix. We are a small but mighty group who were dealt a shitty hand in life. Those of us who are still here have lost our fertility, either through surgery or effects of radiation or chemotherapy. I think only three of us were given an option to harvest eggs prior to treatment, and the rest were thrown into the mouth of cancer Hell without time to consider saving any chance of having biological children. While many of my "sisters" were mothers before their illness began, not one of us has become a mom after our world crashed and the dust settled.
Aria is the first post-cancer baby to be born to our group. She will help newly diagnosed women see that, not only is there hope of survival, but there's hope of living. There's hope of motherhood. Whether they are able to save their own genetic material or adopt in the future, there are ways of achieving this goal.
I think I'm the only one smiling as I listen to the baby screaming at the top of his lungs in the back of the plane. For me, that baby symbolizes life. MY baby symbolizes life.
I can't wait to see you, my sweet Aria!