Baby Drunk

I don’t usually pull from my personal journaling for inspiration here, but this morning I woke up and wrote this, and thought it made sense to share here:

I feel utterly drunk with longing for our baby to be here.  I wake up early, and even though I’d love to drift back into peaceful sleep, my mind starts to wander into babyland and before I can stop it I’m picturing scenes like movie previews: Moon here, sleeping beside our bed, being breast-fed, changing her, clothing her, spending hours watching him sleep, which is all I feel like doing right now.  When the previews end, the main feature starts, and I plan our the day’s baby progress like I’m about to hop on a plane to Aruba - we’ll install the car seats - hooray!  we’ll tour the birthing center - finally! we’ll wash loads and loads of baby clothes, sheets and blankets - endless joy! How can I sleep when such excitement awaits me?

Drunk is exactly the word to describe this feeling, both because I never want it to end and I’m praying there’s no hangover.  This excitement and anticipation can’t last - surely I’ll stop springing out of bed once midnight feedings, changings and cryings begin.  But I do have this great sense that a very real and permanent excitement and joy is beginning and won’t stop ever - I’m becoming a parent.  I might not spring out of bed, ecstatic to be awake at 3:00am for the 3rd night in a row, but I’ll be getting out of bed to see her. him. our child. my baby.  In just a few short weeks I’ll be a mother - and from that day forward I’ll wake  up a mother - and have my heart walking (or crawling) around outside of me, as they say.  This is the intense joy and quiet wonder I’m surrounded with each morning I wake up, and several times throughout the day.  With it I skip to the car to install the seats, I smile as I fold what seems like the 60th onesie, I stay up later than I should, body hurting, to piece together the crib, the bassinet, or just touch the baby books, the toys, the bottles.  I want to lie down in a pool of all things baby - all of these objects our child will touch - will need - so very soon.

I place my hands on E’s belly and feel the strong and massive movements, kicks, hiccups.  I bend down and talk directly to him with my baby voice - and when I place my lips on her skin to plant a kiss - I feel I’m kissing my child - our child.  I breathe in while I’m there and swear I smell that baby smell - so unmistakably sweet and wonderful.  My baby.  Our baby.  Coming soon.  Coming finally.