I woke up this morning shivering in panic. I'm going to have a baby soon. I have no idea how to have a baby. That's not strictly true, of course. I know how to give birth. Assuming their comments were not rhetorical encouragement, everyone said I was pretty darn good at pushing last time. I think I remember most of what to do. The part that freezes me with dread is the part I don't know about - the part where I spend the next day in the hospital with a baby, instead of with a body. The part where I take home a baby, instead of several potted plants. The part where I start my life fresh with a new human being, instead of trying to hold my old life together in the wake of unforeseen tragedy.
Melodramatic? A little.
But when I got out of bed and walked through the nursery-cum-study to go downstairs, I was struck by the warm sunlight pouring over the cradle, the changing table, and the bins of baby items. How absolutely wonderful it was, to be having a baby in the spring, in a nursery with eastern-facing windows, so that the sun bathes everything in this soft, warm light.
Now if we could just decide on a name.
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