Crista Acosta Photography »

Every so often it hits me that very shortly here we’re going to have this little teeny person that relies solely on C and I for everything, and a wave of sheer terror washes over me. You know the feeling… suddenly it seems like there’s a bucket of ice in the bottom of your belly and the feeling spreads from there, paralyzing you in your own fear.

I’m sure we’ll be fine, and I’m confident that we’ll get through it, but I think sometimes that I don’t realize the magnitude of changes to come. It’s more than just some cute, cuddly new baby… it’s a whole new life.

The sound of that simultaneously elates me and scares the bejeezus out of me.

Imagine my surprise when I woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and discovered I was alone in bed. In my slumberous state, I shuffled to the bathroom, and then proceeded very carefully to make my way blindly down the stairs in the dark. If you know me, you know when I say blind, I really mean it… it was pretty pathetic, in my undies and a wifebeater with a big ol‘ belly hanging out and my hands stretched in front of me lest I fall flat on my face.

C was snuggled up on the couch, seemingly sound asleep. This happens every so often, and I usually nudge him awake and off we go back to our bed. Last night though, when I went to reach for him he said “I’m awake, and I have been for the past 2 hours listening to you snore”. The audacity!! I do NOT snore. Hmph… if it’s gonna be like that, go ahead and sleep on the couch!

For what it’s worth, his reasoning was that he knows how uncomfortable I’ve been at night and didn’t want to wake me. I’d rather be awoken to roll over though than husband-less in bed! Especially since I don’t snore

When we were younger, my brother and I used to love when we had a turkey or some other form of poultry for dinner, and my parents would hang the wish bone up over the sink to dry out. For a few days it would hang there, getting nice and brittle and then Tommy and I would each grab a side, make our wish, and yank to see who “won”. I now equate the way my hips feel to that poor wishbone.

Pretty amazing that God has this all figured out, the loosening of the joints to allow the baby to fit through a woman’s hips and all, but it does kinda hurt, I’m not gonna lie. Thus, the waddle ensues. Once I’m up and going, and the joints get all oiled the waddle seems to subside a bit, but those first few steps… oooohhheeee!

Names that we’ve considered (and shot down): Adrian, Aiden, Braden and Evan – these were my choices, rejected for not being “manly enough” per C’s requirements. We’ve also discarded David, Daniel, Alejandro and Javier – those were some of C’s choices, and while I like David and Daniel, I do not like Dave, Davey, Danny, Dan or Dan-o which no matter how hard you try, at some point will enter the picture. It was also important to me that our son not have a name that would be too ethnic given that we already have a Latino surname, as that brings with it it’s own set of concerns.

Soooo…. as of now, we have a menagerie of names that have been banished to the baby name graveyard, and one possibility that we agree on. Though, it should be noted we’ve agreed on a few of the above names at some point in time only to have one or both of us change our mind, so no promises. :::::Drumroll please:::::

Christian Thomas Acosta. Any thoughts? Please note; it’s for your own safety that I warn you that I nearly bit C’s cousin’s head off this past weekend when she tried to say that Christian could be a girl’s name too, as gender neutral names were the #1 absolute guaranteed-to-be-vetoed category. She had C going for a minute, and I really thought we’d be back to the drawing board after 8 long months. So far so good though.