Count on Me

Why am I up in the middle of the night counting Braxton Hicks contractions when I should be counting sheep? Perhaps because they are organizing at 5 minute intervals!

I'll be 36 weeks this weekend and yet I am excited about a slim slight not-even-really-possible labor that I don't even want to happen until at least next week, when at 37 weeks I can deliver in the comfort of a birthing center.

Ah, but that's what the sweet anticipation of holding a newborn will do to an otherwise logical mind.

So, rather than take a Benadryl and see how I feel in the morning, I'm up in the middle of the night dreaming of ten little fingers and ten little toes; two awakening eyes and a little pug nose. I am dreaming of holding the baby and feeling his spine -- a string of pearls -- under a layer of velvet skin; of nursing him and staring at him, of sleeping and waking with him, and of course, of smelling his head and internalizing the reality that he is nestled in my arms.

If I had a magic pill that would let me sleep deeply and soundly from now until 7 a.m. I'm not sure if I would take it. Nope. There's a part of me that would rather be up dreaming of our time to come ... the time that waits just around the corner.

*Yawn*

I think the Braxton Hicks are slowing now. Hmmm ... Maybe I can get back in bed and rest my head just so by tucking a pillow under it, and then one in between my knees, another under my belly, and yet another between my ankles. Then maybe, just maybe, I'll get comfortable enough to quiet my mind and slip from wakefulness to dreamland where, for now, I can hold the child I carry in my belly, in my arms.

And then I'll be rested for our journey together -- whenever it may come. Whether now or later, you can count on me ... sleep or no sleep ... to be anticipating your arrival with open arms and heart.

Good night, sweet babe, and hold tight.