We're entering the final stretch, where any day could be the day, where my phone calls are answered with an excited "Are you in labor?".
I'm anxious to meet our little one, anxious to find out if baby V is a he baby or she baby, and at the same time nervous. Scared of the unknown, of the way the shift from a family of three to a family of four will change the dynamic of our little home and the routine we've grown comfortable with. Worried I will feel less connected to Milani, that I won't be able to cuddle during her naps anymore or unwind for bedtime, just the two of us, curled up with books the way we do now. I don't want to disappoint my girl, and yet I'm simultaneously afraid I won't feel the same wild bond with my new darling that I have with Milani. I worry that the little jolt our life is about to receive might leave us all unsettled for good, unable to find our way back to a place of balance and familiarity. And from my heart I can hear the faint whisper of the truth reassuring me that these fears have no ground to stand on. I know they will dissolve and seem irrationally absurd in hindsight, but I guess I have to feel them and face them, to recognize them and live them in order for them to eventually fade into retrospection.
In the meantime Milani and I have been dividing our time between doing a lot of things and doing a lot of nothing, usually settling somewhere in between.
I don't remember this tree really producing many leaves in years past, and raking crispy leaves into a heaping pile and diving in head first hadn't really occurred to me since I was thirteen or so, but it's these little things that Milani opens my eyes to, that she brings into focus and gives meaning to.
She reminds me of the simple pleasures that keep us kids at heart, that fade into the background if left unnoticed. We spent more than one afternoon in the backyard piling up the leaves and thrashing through and rolling in them.
My girl is an amazing little helper, quick to grab the rake and drag it around, and eager to pile handful after handful of leaves into our compost box.
Over the summer we managed to grow a random surprise vine that sprang from a seed in last years compost. It took us a while to figure out what the vine was, we debated whether it was squash, or watermelon, finally determining that they were pumpkins. We managed to score four pumpkins from our surprise vine, they'll make fantastic pie.
Milani spent one last afternoon running her fingers through the soil in the garden, selecting little chunks of dirt and tossing them to watch them crumble as they hit the ground. One last afternoon with dirt caked to the booty of her pants and black fingernails until the return of spring.
We spent an afternoon exploring the Children's Library with Grandma Andrea. Whimsical clouds, Mary Poppins, an airplane, and NASA rocket all soared overhead, captivating my girl's attention and imagination.
Milani arranged and rearranged magnetic letters, and played with a train table.
She climbed atop Thomas the Tank Engine and perused picture books.
She even took her place on stage, the character that she is. Her world is her stage.
We stopped to play with the electric trains, watching them circle their tracks, touring their tiny village,
And of course had to visit with a donkey on our way to the car.
I'm anxious to meet our little one, anxious to find out if baby V is a he baby or she baby, and at the same time nervous. Scared of the unknown, of the way the shift from a family of three to a family of four will change the dynamic of our little home and the routine we've grown comfortable with. Worried I will feel less connected to Milani, that I won't be able to cuddle during her naps anymore or unwind for bedtime, just the two of us, curled up with books the way we do now. I don't want to disappoint my girl, and yet I'm simultaneously afraid I won't feel the same wild bond with my new darling that I have with Milani. I worry that the little jolt our life is about to receive might leave us all unsettled for good, unable to find our way back to a place of balance and familiarity. And from my heart I can hear the faint whisper of the truth reassuring me that these fears have no ground to stand on. I know they will dissolve and seem irrationally absurd in hindsight, but I guess I have to feel them and face them, to recognize them and live them in order for them to eventually fade into retrospection.
In the meantime Milani and I have been dividing our time between doing a lot of things and doing a lot of nothing, usually settling somewhere in between.
I don't remember this tree really producing many leaves in years past, and raking crispy leaves into a heaping pile and diving in head first hadn't really occurred to me since I was thirteen or so, but it's these little things that Milani opens my eyes to, that she brings into focus and gives meaning to.
She reminds me of the simple pleasures that keep us kids at heart, that fade into the background if left unnoticed. We spent more than one afternoon in the backyard piling up the leaves and thrashing through and rolling in them.
My girl is an amazing little helper, quick to grab the rake and drag it around, and eager to pile handful after handful of leaves into our compost box.
Over the summer we managed to grow a random surprise vine that sprang from a seed in last years compost. It took us a while to figure out what the vine was, we debated whether it was squash, or watermelon, finally determining that they were pumpkins. We managed to score four pumpkins from our surprise vine, they'll make fantastic pie.
Milani spent one last afternoon running her fingers through the soil in the garden, selecting little chunks of dirt and tossing them to watch them crumble as they hit the ground. One last afternoon with dirt caked to the booty of her pants and black fingernails until the return of spring.
We spent an afternoon exploring the Children's Library with Grandma Andrea. Whimsical clouds, Mary Poppins, an airplane, and NASA rocket all soared overhead, captivating my girl's attention and imagination.
Milani arranged and rearranged magnetic letters, and played with a train table.
She climbed atop Thomas the Tank Engine and perused picture books.
She even took her place on stage, the character that she is. Her world is her stage.
We stopped to play with the electric trains, watching them circle their tracks, touring their tiny village,
And of course had to visit with a donkey on our way to the car.
For as much as I anticipate the fall, and rant and rave about how much I love it, I never really get too disappointed when I realize that all of the trees have become completely barren and the view out the window in the morning reveals a dusting of pearlescent frost. By the time I realize that autumn has passed my attention is already captivated by the twinkling lights and fresh evergreens of the holidays. Since Thanksgiving, the radio in the kitchen has streamed a continuous flow of Christmas Carols and our Elf friend has returned from the North Pole to keep watch of our nest. We will be getting our Christmas tree soon, and I can't wait for the heavenly scent of pine to infiltrate every corner of our home and to see it's lights reflected in the enchanted eyes of my curious girl.
And of course, I can hardly wait to hold in my arms the most blessed gift we will receive this Christmas.