Because everybody with a baby needs a blog?

As any 20-something married in Utah knows, it is pretty much the 11th commandment to blog.  Some of us do it in an effort to satire (my personal favorite).  Others of us just do it to communicate with friends and family the funny details of day-to-day life to stay connected. Yet others of us still, I'm convinced, blog to make sure the rest of the world knows what FANTASTIC people they are being.  While I myself generally favor the satire road, there are still elements of the other two veins that appeal, enough so that ever since we got married two and a half years ago, I've felt the nagging urge to blog. 

Here's the problem, though.  We really didn't have too many things I felt I could really blog ABOUT.  Yeah, we're insanely happily married.  Yeah, James is the funniest person I know, and DAILY there are James-isms that I feel ought to be shared with the world.  Yeah, our dogs are super cute.  But if I filled blog with these things, the inborn editor in me would probably throw up in my mouth a little bit.  Because we aren't THOSE kind of people.  We're the Normans. And nothing about that sickly-sweet idea of blogging about our perfect marriage, perfect life, perfect home, etc. appealed to James or I.  We agreed that when we had a baby, then it would be a good idea to blog.  I mean, people would want to see/hear things about a baby.  Well, at least family would, and it wouldn't seem so much like an ongoing litany of our own awesomeness as much as a legitimate thing to share with friends and family who couldn't witness said baby's progression in person.

So that was our agreement. No blog till baby.  And that wasn't supposed to happen until May 24, 2011, when THIS baby was supposed to make his grand entrance.

Rigby James Norman is only 32 weeks along, and apparently impatient of making his arrival.  Like his dad, impatience and stubbornness already seem to be governing his tiny personality.  Just when I thought I had 8 weeks to think of a clever title for my satirical/informative/maybeslightlybragging blog, suddenly Rigby went from an idea that occasionally socked me in the stomach to a very real little human being whose opinion on his arrival was VERY different from my own.

Yesterday, my "membranes ruptured."  A gross term for saying that my water "broke," or more appropriately, "leaked," which actually is just another slightly gross idea.  While he seems content to camp out for the moment, the result of Rigby's in utero coup for freedom is that, whether he wants to or not now, he will have to be delivered no later than 34 weeks to prevent infection.  For those of you counting, that's 10 days.  TEN DAYS.  And that's if my body doesn't decide to go into labor to counter act Rigby's little act of defiance and show him whose REALLY boss. 

So suddenly, my plan for the next 8 weeks has drastically altered.  Whereas I thought I'd spend my time actually getting my head around the idea of having a baby in 2 months, now I have to get my head around the idea of a baby in 10 days or less.  Crazy.  And not just any baby.  A Norman baby.  A Norman baby who at 32 weeks already weighs about 5lbs 9oz, with an apparently developing sense of humor - after all, my water ruptured on April Fool's Day.  A Norman baby who will spend at least 2 weeks or so in NICU so that his tiny lungs can learn how to breathe outside of me.  I won't lie - it's scary, and definitely does NOT comport with the plan I had in my mind about starting our little family.  But if I've learned anything from three years of being with James, it's that our impulsive decisions are often our best ones (see: our decision to get married after dating 1 week; our decision to get our awesome dog on a whim; our decision to get pregnant; et. all).  I guess we shouldn't be surprised that Rigby's demonstrating the same tendency.

Until his arrival, I am stuck on bed rest at the hospital.  Which, it turns out, is highly boring AND inherently humorous at the same time.  I anticipate the next few days will reflect some of these moments.  That is, unless this show gets going and Rigby arrives.  In that case, I'm sure this will be much more about him.  How can you blame me?  His tiny act of defiance marks him as our own already.  Much as I want him to stay put and cook a little longer, I'm terribly intrigued by this tiny force of will currently holding my body hostage.  Hopefully, you're all (almost) as excited to meet him as we are :)