Dawnings

Just as the sun appears slightly blurry, almost like your first morning gaze at something bright and brilliant, so too does my picture of motherhood seem somewhat blurry right now.

I have no idea what to expect from Gabriel, from myself, from my hubby. Mine is such a small family that the addition of one new member will be a momentuous event. And yet, am I ready for this? Are we ready for this?

I go through various stages of panic--lately the most prominent stage is the nesting/preparation stage. I sometimes feel as if all my other worries will fade and not come true if somehow I am ultimately prepared materialistically for this baby. After all, if I have everything just perfect (the right number of onesies, blankets, burp cloths, bibs, diapers, outfits, medicines, soaps, pacifiers, etc.) then the whole motherhood gig will fall seamlessly into place...right? I know, it is irrational thinking. But, there is a primal urge there to prepare.

There really isn't much left in the way of preparations. We've had a 'nursery' set up since before the triplets. It has only grown and changed over the last two years. I've redone things specifically with Gabe in mind (decor and color schemes) but the essentials have been there just waiting. Yet, I have my panic moments. What if I have forgotten something? What if, what if, what if...all of these 'what-ifs' serve only to cover up the big what if: what if something goes wrong with this pregnancy? What if he doesn't come home...

A wise, new mother told me recently that her worry only increased in pregnancy as she got closer to the final countdown. I find that to be true. I want to think that fate will somehow spare us any last minute fall-outs, but my mind drifts back to them over and over again (cord accidents, pre-eclampsia, hidden genetic problems, a premature baby with significant medical challenges, etc.) I kept thinking, early on, that as the baby grew and positive reports rolled in that the worry would lessen. I was wrong.

As I came home from the store today toting more baby stuff (blankets, diaper wipes, sheets) my husband just chuckled. I imagine him seeing me as a big, waddling hen just clucking about her nest. The poor hen has no realization that the nest is just fine, better than fine. The nest is stocked for the winter and just awaiting the baby bird. Still, she clucks about looking for weaknesses in the nest, holes to fill in, worries to abate. She is tireless in her efforts.

I remember feeling this unsure, insecure with the triplets. I felt so powerless as my body grew and my mind tried to wrap around three babies at once. I needed my husband so desperately and worried that something awful would happen to him. The same fears creep back now and this hen paces back and forth, figuratively.

And, yet, time is marching on and with each passing day I am grateful for health and Gabe's gentle kicks and maneuvers. I hold my breath and wait anxiously for the day I can meet him face to face (or boob to face)! I am grateful for this anticipation.