Getting ready to meet our new little elf

It's hard to believe I'm delivering a small child tomorrow.


I could attempt to write some "'Twas the night before baby" poem, but that would be a tad overachieving, even for me.


But, in case you were wondering what goes through the mind of a pregnant woman less than 12 hours before she gives birth for the second and last time, here are some thoughts:

I didn't even bother to look up the name we've picked out until just now. We'd settled on the name Avery Jack a few months ago, and barring some look on the kid's face that just says, "I ain't no Avery Jack," that's what we'll call him. Are you ready for this? It means "elf," "ruler of the elves," "magical counsel" or some deviation of "wee wise person." I find this very funny, but come to think of it, I didn't know Julian's name means "youthful, downy bearded" until just now and that hasn't had much effect on the person he has become.


Our little elf has been pretty quiet on this last day inside my belly. We've known about him since the very beginning, when he was just a cluster of cells. A striking difference from pregnancy No. 1, when Julian was a 4-month-old fetus before we caught on. I don't feel like I "know" this kid any more than I "knew" Julian when he was coming out, but I can speak for both Ian and me that we're not nearly as apprehensive about being responsible for a new life. That's one thing being a parent will teach you: Everything eventually works out, even when there are offspring involved.

Having been a pregnant woman on both sides of the increasingly political debate about medicalized birth practices, I am totally at peace with having a scheduled C-section. I could rehash the two-day labor experience from way back in 2007 that ended in an emergency C-section, but the details really aren't that important. Julian came out healthy and that's all that matters. Another hour or two at the birthing center, where the midwives weren't advocating for what was best for the health of me and my baby (having me push for three hours at 8 cm dilated, for instance), and things could have turned out very differently for both of us. Healthy baby and healthy mama is the goal. How you get there really doesn't matter.

So, at 5:30 a.m. tomorrow, I'll stroll through the doors of the hospital near our house and within a few hours, we'll greet the little guy who has been incubating inside my uterus for the past 39 weeks. The doctors think he's about 7 1/2 or 8 pounds, and if the heartburn I've had is any indication, he'll have a full head of hair.



Julian will come to the hospital mid-morning to meet his baby brother, a moment I've been anticipating since before we even got pregnant. There's no denying that choosing to have another child has a lot to do with providing a sibling for the one we already have. I have a sibling whom I wouldn't trade for anything in the world. I can't imagine having grown up without her, and because of that bond, I can't imagine raising Julian as an only child.



It's past 10 p.m., so I really should be going to bed, but I don't feel that tired and in a way, I kind of want to stay up and stroke my big round belly that will be gone (or at least nice and flabby and not so taut) by this time tomorrow. I've said it before, but it's worth saying again: I really, really enjoy being pregnant. It's a beautiful thing to experience, despite all the waking up to go pee in the middle of the night, the pelvis pain, the heartburn, the restricted diet, the swollen feet and extra 40 pounds. I know carrying a baby isn't so pleasant for other women, but for me, it's something I'm really going to miss. (Not enough to have more babies, I promise. I'm so not interested in having more than two children that the doctor will be fiddling with my tubes tomorrow after the C-section to ensure that I'm done.)



It's fun to experience it with the people you see every day, the friends who tentatively rub your belly and say that they've never felt a pregnant woman's stomach before, the strangers in the store who ask whether you're having a boy or a girl, your partner who so patiently adjusts to all the physical changes you experience while still saying that — and treating you like — you're the sexiest woman in the world.



Off we go! A big day for the Knox-Broyles family awaits us in the morning...