It looks like the band is going back in the studio in the spring, so that works out well for us and will give us time to get settled in Minnesota.
The only bummer is setting up a nursery that’s going to be temporary.
But that’s okay. Our little girl is going to have everything she needs, whether it’s here or in Minneapolis, because her parents are so excited to meet her.
My mother’s situation is basically a holding pattern. The nursing home agreed to keep her until the baby comes, and we pay for her to have a nurse with her at night. It’s expensive but worthwhile so we know she’s safe—and I don’t have to worry.
It’s the day before my due date, and I’ve just pulled two bourbon pecan pies out of the oven when I feel a strange wetness between my legs.
Oh, shit.
I look down in surprise as it dawns on me what this means.
It’s time.
“Tate?” I call to him as I put the pies down and put two more in the oven. I’ve had a few twinges today but I thought they were more Braxton-Hicks contractions, so I don’t think we’re leaving for the hospital just yet.
“Yeah, babe?” He comes around the corner looking hotter than hot with a baseball cap on backwards and a smudge of paint on his cheek.
“I think it’s time.”
“Time?” He’s got a paint brush in one hand and a rag in the other. “For what? You need more supplies?”
I smile. “No, silly. Time to have a baby.”
He blinks. “But your due date is tomorrow.”
I laugh. “You know that’s just an approximate date, right? It doesn’t mean it’s going to be on that exact day.”
“Oh, shit!” He drops the rag on the counter and then lays the brush on it. “What do you need me to do? Where’s your bag? Do I have time to change?”
“Easy, there,” I say, laughing. “The first thing you need to do is help me clean up this puddle on the floor from where my water broke. Then we can both get in the shower.”
“Shower? You don’t have time to shower.”
“The contractions haven’t even really started. And I just put two more pies in the oven. We have plenty of time. Come on.” I hold out my hand.
“Babe, are you sure? We should call the doctor.”
“We have time. Come on.”
He hesitates but then lets me pull him up the stairs.
We get undressed and step into the shower. He runs a hand over my belly before leaning down to kiss it. “It’s almost time, baby girl.”
I smile.
He’s so sweet, especially when it comes to our daughter. Always talking and singing to her, playing music for her, making plans for her. He’s going to be the best girl dad ever.
He’s already the best husband ever.
These last few months have been the best of my life. I’ve never lived with a guy before so I wasn’t sure how it would be but he blended into my life seamlessly. And honestly, it’s nice having someone around now that I’m at the end of my pregnancy. I haven’t gained much weight, only twenty pounds, but I feel huge and things that were second nature before are infinitely harder now.
Not with Tate, though.
My husband is…everything.
That’s the only way to describe it.
