May 22, 2012

This about sums things up:


Ohhh, but does he make me laugh.

He is 22 months old, as of this past Thursday. He celebrated by counting to ten. He amazes me every day.

I am 29 weeks pregnant, as of today. I cannot believe that in just 8 weeks I will be considered “full term.”

I have been preparing. Nesting, perhaps. Grant moved into his big boy room over Mother’s Day weekend. That Saturday was his last night going to bed in his baby room. I cried and cried and cried. On Mother’s Day he went to sleep in his new room. He still joins us in bed at some point in the night, but it’s still symbolic of how fast it all goes. It is so strange to make this transition… to want him to stay little but also feel driven to prepare for this next life that will be joining us so, so soon.

I am preparing in spurts. Decluttering. Organizing. Sorting. Buying.

Once again I am faced with the spectrum of life and its fragility. When I was pregnant with Grant, my husband’s brother died. And this time, my husband’s mother is very sick. I don’t know how bad it is; I know she had surgery on her heart yesterday, and they need to go back in and put in a stint. I also know there is something wrong with her lungs and there is more testing planned for the near future. My husband sounds pretty defeated about it, if he talks about it at all. He worries that Grant will never see his grandmother again, and that the new baby will never meet her. It doesn’t help that they are across the country, and the likelihood that they’ll return home this summer is grim at this point.

It’s strange to be going through this again. Illness and pondering death, while on the brink of life and excitement. We will take it all a day at a time.

But tonight? We watched our son dance. He fumbled around with my husband’s iPhone and then Rufus Wainwright’s version of “Hallelujah” came on, and he danced for us. He swayed back and forth, turned slowly in circles, lifted his arms when he felt it was right, turned his head and swayed some more. He’d throw in an occasional clap, his own “chh chh” beat. It was sweet and funny and beautiful. It makes you wonder what inspires a child so young, what makes him know to just dance, to feel the music that way. How he knows when we need to feel certain things, need sweet distraction, something to make us laugh and tear up, something to make our hearts swell.


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