baby woke me up at 2am again. i came downstairs and cleaned the remainder of the dinner dishes, prepped all the ingredients for smoothies in the morning, did some laundry, walked the dog, and then sat in the empty nursery for some time, thinking about the past few years… how i ended up here at this perfect but precarious place.

precarious. anything that is uncertain, though lacking stability, is exciting. full of possibility. i have a person growing inside me who i don’t know at all yet. i’ve dreamed about her since i was a little girl, wanted her, hoped for her, and thought i would never have her. i’ve washed and folded her tiny dresses, leggings, socks and booties. i’ve held the fabric to my face and breathed in, trying to imagine what it’ll be like to hold her body with my arms and smell her.

tonight as i read to Peti, i showed him how if i pushed on my belly in a certain way, i could push her head from one spot and feel her butt moving in another spot. he laughed and said “she’s probably in there saying ‘Mom, stop it!’ “. It was the first time i thought about her calling me “mom”. she’ll be just as much my child as Peti is and i’ll love her just as much as i love him. she won’t be a stranger when she’s born. she’ll be my daughter.

when i typed “daughter”, she kicked me hard.

the room that will be hers was always my least favorite room of all. the walls had strange, ugly texture that seemed to have been applied with drywall compound in an experimental fashion. today, the drywall/plaster specialist man finally fixed them. i can’t stop going into that empty room and imagining the paint and furniture, blankets, and her. truthfully, i doubt she’ll see the inside of that room more than a handful of times in her first few years. she’ll be with me. but i suppose her room is a quiet place to nap or take a bath. i like her bathroom. she has the cutest bathroom in the house. i’m rambling.

i think making a nursery is more important to the parents of the child than the child (obviously). it makes the child’s imminent arrival more physical- visual, tangible, external. she only exists inside me right now. i’m trying not to be a consumer. i want previously enjoyed baby items… especially items used by babies i know and like.

last year at this time, things were really different. there was a media cloud around me. my phone rang all day and all night. reporters and people from places all over this country and other countries called with sometimes uplifting things and sometimes frightening things to say. i was in a spinning place. disoriented. things couldn’t be any more different. its nice, reassuring, that things can change so entirely. i’ve got my feet planted and little invisible roots digging into the earth. a baby rooted in me, attached by pulsing vessels i can feel when i simply place my hand on my belly.

i used to volunteer facilitating a parenting class in a women’s correctional facility. there was one unit called “Roots and Wings”. i loved that concept- the necessity of roots prior to wings. i loved those women. they were bright vibrant ladies.

the end.