Tomorrow . . .

Well, here we are. The night before the big day. I'm sitting here watching a crappy movie (anything with Cameron Diaz is total crap in my opinion), and Miles is literally scrubbing the base boards as I sit. He started doing that after he finished the dishes. After a long day of washing our cars and cleaning out the garage. Oh and he made dinner.

Jealous? Or nauseated? He makes a really really good housewife. Puts me to shame. Boy, did I luck out.

But back to the big day. . .

I feel . . . .well, I feel everything. Incredibly excited. I can't wait to meet Finley, I can't wait to have a happy outcome to labor, to see what he looks like and how much he weighs. To put him in that car seat we installed today, or bring him home to meet Roscoe. I can't wait for any of it. But it's scary too. Scary to know that things can happen at any minute that you never would expect. Scary to think of the harsh reality we were exposed to first hand and can't ignore.

And it's bittersweet. We are about to meet our baby and welcome him into the world, but that incredible fact is because life didn't go as planned. Because we lost Cale. Our happiness is, and forever will be, intertwined with our grief. It's complicated and never will be anything but. Yet, as much as it makes me nostalgic for Cale and makes me miss him and sad for everything he missed out on, it makes me love him so much more. It makes me so grateful for him - he is the reason we are about to embark on this journey and the reason we have reason to be excited tonight.

I've been listening to this song a lot:

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.

   Get over your hill and see what you find there.

  It's been a big hill, but we are nearly there. . . .