not yet

by willeya

{i wrote this earlier this week and seeing that this next week is very full and i might not get the opportunity to be on here too much, i thought i would post it now.  this past week was a wonderful time of quiet, reflection, and expression for me.  now other realities are setting in and i must tend to them.  i hesitate to post this so quickly after my last one, in which i describe all my non-mom dreams, afraid i may look flighty.  and maybe i am. i like to think of it as living in the gray.  sounds more sophisticated. but either way – both are fully true.}

a recent fb status of mine reads, “just found the most beautiful middle name to go with the first name of the boy we’re not having”.

i really should stop posting around having more children because it’s throwing people off.  inevitably someone doesn’t get the nuance and asks if we are pregnant and then i’m like “live in the gray people”.  but it’s my fault for posting it at all.

it’s like my fingers want to type “we’re having a baby and it’s a ______ and we’re naming it ______”.  but that would be a lie so i flirt with the truth.

is it possible to want a baby more than anything else yet never be more terrified of two lines? i wish we were the type of people that could jump 100 feet cliffs without talking about it for hours first because we know it’ll be great no matter how we land.  instead our toes hang over the edge until we spot a little pebble that might be the death of us and we slowly back away.  we jump but not before clearing the way.

we wish we were different but that’s not true cause then we would be. there’s something real who feels like Wisdom that’s holding us back. we’ve never gone wrong with Her, though to us she seems to appear in Her grandmother rather than rock star [or cliff jumper] form.

so i continue to grow this child in my heart whom our life is not yet ready to carry.  it sounds miserable but i really feel ok with both the want and the waiting.  these two realities lie in peace – next to each other – within me.  i’ll just do weird things like frequent, pat my full belly after a big meal pretending it’s a baby not food making it protrude, write his name in curly-ques on the church bulletin – all while being so so happy for that one lined stick riding away with the garbage man.

not my fingers because that would be eww gross.