I don't need a rescue (unless you're Mr. Cypher)

Sometimes I worry. I mean, Im the type of person who believes that things will work out okay. I roll with the punches, and I accept my lot (its a good one!). But sometimes late at night, staring at the ceiling thanks to my pregnancy-induced insomnia, I worry. I know everything is going to change. I know it's going to be hard, and stressful. I know the rates of divorces rise after the first child. But that's not why I worry. I worry because I'm not that worried. I feel ready. I feel strong and prepared to take on the challenge. I'm not scared of being a bad parent or accidentally killing the baby or even not having any idea how to nurse. I just know in my heart that it's all going to be okay. We'll figure it out. I've taken care of people all my life, and I know that if I care and I'm willing to learn and love, then everything else will fall into place.

Not to say that I'm kicking my feet up. I've been researching baby essentials, stroller reviews, breast-feeding techniques, etc. I'm open to opinions and advice. But what I've shut out is fear. I'm not going to subject myself to the fear that something bad could happen. I'm grateful that Amanda and I are on the same page about that. We are educating ourselves, but we're looking away from all the bad things. What's the point?

So, what DO I think about while staring at the ceiling and not worrying? What museums we'll take our children to. How we can make the best entertainment/educational area for them. What their names will sound like calling up the stairs for dinner. (In my fantasies, we have a 2-story house. And a hot tub.) I imagine us being supportive and proud, and trying our best to always be there for them.

And sometimes I'm fantasizing about Richard Cypher rescuing me, shirtless and sweaty.



... oh yeah ...