Waiting: 34 Weeks

Grayson waiting for the fireworks to begin: Lake Possum Kingdom 7/3/10

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It's a strange feeling to know that your life is about to change. Usually, it just changes. Out of nowhere. Like in softball when I was eight-years old, a hopeless athlete forced to play center-field for an entire season, because that was the position that got the least action. And, of course, game after game, I waited, waited, WAITED for some action, my eye on the sky, until the day came that I stopped waiting because....screw waiting! No one is ever going to hit the ball all the way out to center-field. Except someone did. The one day I wasn't paying attention. The day I was looking for ladybugs.


I don't know if I caught two balls in the two seasons I played center-field, which was why I eventually begged my Mom to quit.....or the fact that when I tried to throw the ball home, I wacked my coach upside the head...yes, that really happened. He got a concussion and I was scarred for life. I never wanted to play again.


Waiting gives me a stomach ache, even if there is absolutely no reason to be nervous. Waiting in line at Starbucks and my nerves are a flutter. It's going to be my turn and I can't decide between the vanilla frappachino or the pumpkin latte and what the heck did Kev want again???? Was it 2 splendas and 1 creamer or vice versa??? Waiting for the mail. Waiting for friends to arrive at a house party. Anxiety takes over. I start sweating. I pace and clean and check my cell-phone for missed calls and messages. I re-ponytail my hair. Again. And again...


The butterflies arrived this week. In the form of kicks and nudges and hiccoughs and... nerves. Or maybe its just gas. No, but it isn't gas. I know gas. Gas and me are like old friends who don't like to be seen in public together. This is something bigger: an acute case of butterflies.


There is no anticipation quite like a pregnancy. Waiting for someone to "be" is a pretty nerve-wracking experience, even if they're the happiest kind of nerves. Nerves with smiley-faces and silly string.

Waiting for Grayson 8/10/07

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Today, I was crossing the parking lot with a smoothie and two cups of ice coffee in one hand, Grayson's hand in the other, when it occurred to me that, very soon, I won't be able to do such a thing. Not without some help or a stroller, or at the very least, a large bag full of supplies. I haven't carried a diaper bag in almost two years, and the thought of binkies and bottles and burp-cloths both excites and terrifies me.


I'm so together right now. I feel like I can do anything. I can mother and work and sleep and pursue creative schemes, and meet friends for lunch and go relax in a swimming pool because my son has mastered the $2 floaties.... I can pack a lunch in five-minutes and get out the door in ten. I can spend an entire day without so much as thinking about a stroller. An entire month, even. I can spend an afternoon at the park and know at every moment where my child is, what he's doing and if/when he needs me to give him a boost or push him on the swing. I can, in one hand, balance two full cups of coffee on top of a 10 ounce berry smoothie with Calcium boost.


For now.


I feel like I have finally figured out how to be a mother, a friend, a wife, and an individual without leaving anyone out. I am confident in my multi-tasking across busy parking lots. I know what I'm doing...


Aha! But not for long.


And so, the butterflies. The twisted bellyaches that growl and vibrate the unknown. The nervous anticipation of standing in the outfield with my glove extended toward the sky, whispering, "I got it! I got it! I got it!" because that's what the coaches tell you to say when you think you got it. When you think you can catch the ball. When it's falling right over you! Right into your glove!


And, "I got it," I think, standing here, once again, in center field, the farthest position from the pitcher's mound. And of course I do. I will. I'll catch the ball. Maybe not on the fly, per say. It might take a bounce or two before it finds its way into my glove.


But that's the game. And that's motherhood... And I'm sure its been said, a thousand times before, in ways far more eloquent than I can express, that the moment we think we have it all under control, is the ideal moment to lose our balance and spill coffee all over our silly metallic $12.99 sandals.

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And so I embrace the nerves and cramps and sweaty palms. And I wait...


...With napkins ready.