I’ve been practicing my breathing. Over the weekend, Nikki and I had an all-day childbirth/Lamaze class. It was fun. We learned all kinds of things, including different breathing techniques to help with relaxation.
Baby or not, we could all probably benefit from some deep breaths and some relaxation these days. I know these next hours and days will be so important as our troops reach Baghdad. Many of the first to approach will likely be the 3rd Infantry Division, our hometown folk.
And that made the Lamaze class sad for me, too. I’m excited, so excited to be a part of this time in Nikki’s life. I’m excited about the chance of being there when a new life comes into the world and takes its first breath. I think the whole experience will be amazing, and I feel like I’ve been given an immeasureable gift.
But, this isn’t supposed to be how it happens. Andrew is supposed to be the one learning how to help Nikki breathe. Andrew is supposed to be holding her hand right now. Saturday, in that class, there were so many couples sharing this intimate time. As I sat there and listened to the instructor talking about diapering your baby, I thought about Andrew, in a hummer in a line of tanks, rolling through the desert toward Baghdad and uncertainty. It’s wrong. He should be here – for his sake, for Nikki’s sake, and the baby. When the day comes and she delivers, I will do my very best to be the support she needs. But I know the support she really needs is thousands of miles away in a sandstorm. And it makes me angry.
Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Slowly. Again.