Due

Today was his due date, two years ago.  I might be able to conjure what I was doing, I am sure it is written in the journal I was creating for him, but I clearly remember what I was feeling.  Happy.  Hopeful.  Expectant.

I am not someone who wants pregnancy to end early.  I have a dear friend who, in response to the topic of procrastination put a positive spin on it by saying “I work well to a deadline.”

I resonate with that.  I seem to always have a mile long to-do list and work up to the last minute getting things done.  The gift of time is a true gift to me.  My due date had come and gone with each of my two older children, this was my “normal” and I appreciated the borrowed time.

I like to be prepared in life, especially for my babies, so there was no question of whether or not I would find out his gender. I want to know as much as I could about him and would often daydream about who he might be in our little family.  This being my 3rd, I knew even more that I needed to get everything in order ahead of time; I was determined to relish those sweet newborn days that stream into each other as one foggy haze of holding, feeding, spurts of sleep and overwhelming love at the miracle of life in my arms.  With a 4 1/2 and 2 1/2 year old to care for, everything else needed to be in order.

I love the process of baby preparations.  My creativity and nesting energies converge full force and I pour out all that love into whimsical, cozy and practical dwellings.  His clothes were all washed and put away in his newly painted sky blue dresser.  I spent hours searching for drawer liners to freshen every surface of our craiglist find and gave up when I found simple blue striped thick matte wrapping paper at a fancy stationary store.  I remember cutting each piece to size, spritzing them with baby perfume I bought in France and carefully fitting them to the boys’ drawers.  It was a ridiculous little detail, but one will find me wiping away tears in the laundry area of the Container Store and my heart will be breaking.

I painted the room he’d share with his big brother Barley with 8 feet tall blades of grass and tucked in various bugs playing peek-a-boo in shades of blue.  I put a few special ones strategically near his crib where he was to lie and look for so many hours of his lovely life.  I remember cuddling with my sweet  3 year-old son and looking over to see those bugs.  Forgetting how intentional I had been with that 4 foot stretch of wall, I was caught off guard a few months later when it came into focus.

Moments like that were like an unexpected punch to my stomach from out of nowhere.  I’d be caught off guard and suddenly breathless, sobbing over so many little triggers that opened up a deep wound reminding me of the boy I had spent so many days hoping for.

This was the day I worked so hard and so lovingly for to be ready for an entire lifetime.


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