The Waiting

Forty weeks is a long time to count down to the arrival of a new baby. If it all goes according to plan, they take 280 days to develop. We can't hear their little voices, we can't see their eyes, we can't hold them in our arms. But we want them to have all the time they need in there to come out safe and strong. So we wait.

That's one of the things kids are good for: teaching their parents the virtues of patience. Even before they arrive. Well, at least we're not elephants.

By this, the ninth month, the 281st day, I can scarcely think of anything else. Even while I sleep, my head is full of visions of finally meeting this baby. And it's not even my own. Every time the phone rings, my heart speeds up as I run to answer it. Not yet.

Everything is in place. The nest is ready, there are blankets and clothes and diapers, two eager parents and even a big sister.

She's already got everything she needs and her lungs have yet to breathe in all the love. Love from all the members of our tribe.


We're all more than ready, and she'll come when she's ready and the waiting will be over. Soon I'll answer that phone and it will finally be her, it will finally be time. Until then,

we wait.