I'm Ready

to hold Babel in my arms. Good Lord, am I ready. But, as much as I am ready, just like as much as I was ready to be pregnant, how ready I am does not mean a damn thing. Babel's not ready, and thus, I have to wait.

I didn't know I would feel this way. I find myself frustrated that I can't patiently wait out these 100+ days and cherish the feeling of Babel kicking around in my belly. I'm almost certain I will miss these feelings when Babel is living in the outside world, yet at this very moment, I desperately want to hold him.

I first felt these feelings after the anatomy scan. It took me the full day after to realize that my sadness and irritability was over the date not being what I wanted it to be. I have a sweet picture of Babel covering his little face, exposing his little baby armpit, and oh, how I long to feel that crease of skin where his arm meets his torso. I ache for that little bit of Babel's body, much in the way that I used to ache to feel his kicks.

I don't want Babel to come now; I simply want it to be his due date *right now*. I sometimes fear that my impatient thoughts will make him come to us too soon, which is the last thing I want. Babel is like a not fully baked cake, the SMT says. He's firm on the outside, but under that top layer, his insides are still all runny. I know this, yet I still wish for it to be time.

On Monday, we had to go to the hospital for a little monitoring, though everything was just fine. Babel is breech and stepping/tap dancing/kicking all of my lady bits, sometimes sinking down and increasing the pressure when I stand up or go to the bathroom. I had a wee bit of back pain like I do when my period comes, so that, combined with the very low pressure, was just a little concerning. When I called the doctor, I expected her to maybe have me come in to the office, but more likely I expected to be told more fluids and more rest. Instead, she said "labor and delivery" and I momentarily panicked. I amazingly pulled myself together, though, in a matter of minutes. I listened to my body, knew that we were okay, and took it as a little extra peek at Babel.

When we arrived there and were hooked the monitors, TH and I were lighthearted, talking to Babel, listening to his feisty kicks. He obviously disliked the pressure of the monitors, for which I was glad, as he had been pretty quiet before that. But the more I sat there, listening to the woman on the other side of the triage curtain, the one who was giving birth to her baby in the coming hours, the sadness creeped in. I walked in to the hospital reminding Babel it was too soon and to stay put, yet I laid in that bed, wishing that it was magically January and Time.

Is this a leftover infertility present? I calculated that we started trying 4 months after our wedding day, and 38 months after that same day, Babel will be in my arms. Are my feelings just the result of our lengthy wait? I have been waiting for Babel's arrival for what feels like so long, and as we approach the doorstep, the shortest wait we have had yet, it feels entirely unbearable. And yet, I feel this way knowing that the days that I carry Babel all to myself are numbered. After him, I may never have these sensations again. I know this. I fear it. Yet, I can't help but be filled with longing for Babel's sweet baby skin in my hands, his breath on my cheek, his cries in my ears.

I am trying so very, very hard to be right here with Babel in these moments, yet no matter what I do, I want him to feel these moments as vividly as I do, breathing his own air and telling me his secrets without my interpretations. My hands are ready to hold his; the skin of my belly, his house, are no longer enough.

I still long for my baby, even while he's right here with me. What will be enough?