As I write this, I am officially 36 weeks along in my pregnancy with our first child. Each day is a mixture of wild anticipation and timid caution. Are we ready for her? What else needs to be done? Are we going to be good parents? How else can we possibly prepare for the labor, birth, postpartum period, and the transition into parenthood? Every way you slice it, it all feels like new territory. I’ve babysat before; I’ve watched my mom and dad raise my brother from a young age. But none have been fully mine– none of them have been a child grown in areas only I have ever occupied or borne of my body.

If I were to make a ballpark estimation, I’d say I have somewhere around thirty pairs of shoes in my closet right now. I know, I know. Some might say that’s a lot, and yet, some of my fellow shoe-lovin’ ladies might say that’s an appropriate number. Some have a set purpose which means they can’t be used every day or all year round– slippers, snow boots, flip-flops. Others are multipurpose, and therefore see more wear-time– my basic, black pumps, my denim Toms, my combat boots. Still, others are for no other purpose than to have a little fun– multicolor cowboy boots, bright pink and metallic high heels, highlighter yellow sneakers.