I Love My Brother

I’ve lost some credibility this week. I decided on Monday night that I really don’t like our (almost complete) nursery anymore. Which isn’t really all that surprising to me because I have never been so indecisive about anything ever in my life. I want this room to be perfect. So, I am in the process of re-doing it. My mom has been patiently helping put new Pinterest boards together. My husband is being quiet about it and going with the flow (as long as he doesn’t have to paint). And I will be spending the weekend begging and pleading for a few stores to stretch their return policies and let me return curtains, pillows, baskets, and crib sheets that I’ve had for more than 30 days.

The only reason I tell you this is because I worry that what I’m about to say might make me lose even more credibility.

Do you want to know what I’m worried about when it comes to labor and delivery?

What I’m going to eat after I give birth to this baby.

It’s actually probably a coping strategy. Instead of thinking about how I’m actually going to push this baby out and survive it being the person who has to lay down to have blood drawn, I’m focusing on the food situation.

I know that people who have had babies will think this is crazy. I know that people who haven’t had babies will think this is crazy.

(And side note: I do think about more important things regarding this baby too, like how we’ll raise her, how we’ll take care of her, what her personality might be like. Not just about her surroundings and what I’ll eat after labor.)

But what can I say?

The thought of not eating for however long I’m in labor is downright frightening to me. That could mean I don’t eat anything for 24 hours. Maybe even more thanks to some horror stories that have been shared with me lately. And I am someone who eats every 2 hours on the dot. I have regular, full, balanced meals. I have lots of snacks in between. I get grumpy when there isn’t food in my stomach.

Okay, I know there is a chance that I will not be hungry during labor. That is what people tell me anyway.

But I know I will be ravenous after labor. And I’ve spent quite a good amount of time worrying about what I will eat when that happens. What if I have this baby at 1am and have no access to any food that I will eat? (I don’t do hospital food.)

My plan for a while was to fill up a cooler and wheel it into the hospital with us. I told Zach a few times (and I’m not sure he ever realized I was serious) that the second I go into labor, we are going to Lucia’s To Go for snacks to load into the cooler. Because I’m sure that poor Zach having to wheel in a ridiculous cooler while trying to manage me in all my labor drama and our overnight bags as we check into the hospital won’t be a total cluster. But, after our birth class instructor mentioned some people do it, I decided it wasn’t too insane.

I also have my brother lined up to be my designated food getter. He (somewhat) understands me. And he’s my brother. I can ask him to do things that I wouldn’t ask others to do and be bossier with him than I can with most people.

This is already very nice of him, right, to be on call to get me food? Well, he took it a step further today.

In an email from brother John-Paul:

“If you give me the list of places you're interested in getting food from, and what food you want from those places, I will put it into a spreadsheet with hours of operation so quick decisions can be made;)”

Be still, my heart.

I love spread sheets. I love having plans in place. I love food. This is like the best idea I’ve ever heard of. I love my brother.

So, I think I’m covered. A cooler full of Lucia’s treats that could get me through the night if needed if BGC does in fact come at 1am. And a brother who will pick me up whatever I want during normal-ish hours.

A plan. It’s in place. All is right with the world.