Kangaroo, I Envy You.

As a senior in high school it seems everyone in the world wants to know what post-high plans are had, where one will attend college, and in what one will major. Once in college the question is what one plans to do with their degree and how quickly it will be accomplished. When an individual finds them self in what the surrounding population dubs a "serious" dating relationship, it seems everyone and their mother wants to know when a marriage proposal might be taking place. Once married, the question looms, "When babies?"

We live in a rushed society and a pressure-filled world. It can be good, but more often than not I find it frazzling.

Brian and I have survived the high school and college questioning, as well as our most challenging: the baby questioning. But there's a new question. "Are you ready?!!" everyone wants to know.

My answer: I don't know. 

I keep asking God to prepare me and I trust that He will, but that doesn't fix that when I walk into the nursery I'm not sure if I have whatever it is I'm supposed to have. I don't know if I'm ready to bring this baby home. At 37 weeks I know one thing for sure and that is the fact that I am not ready to get this baby out. As much as I sometimes would like to see and touch his/her face, or hold him/her in my arms, or put him/her down for a sec, I'm still not ready to be physically two units, instead of our current one. I like being joined, even when it means I can't walk(or sit, or stand, or cook, or do anything) because our baby is situated ever-so-inconveniently on top of my sciatic nerve. Even when I'm 7/8 of the way done vacuuming the house but I can't finish the last teeny tiny stretch of hallway because I can't move, even then I like that we're together. I cling to our constant togetherness. People tell me that things will change. They say I'll become frantic to get Babe out. Their expressions say so clearly, "Oh hun, just you wait, you've got another thing comin'!" I guess I'm not there yet. Perhaps that's my answer. Maybe I'm not ready.

All the uncertainty has led me to this realization: I'm jealous of kangaroos. I think I want a pouch. I'm excited for this baby to have a place to sleep/roll/kick box...etc. that isn't inside my body. I'm excited to put this little stinker down every now and then. But until God deems it time, I hope to continue to cherish this precious, quiet time. Until "go time" faces me, I envy those kanga mamas. They get to have their little 'roos out...and still pack 'em around "inside" of themselves whenever they so choose. How clever! Talk about the best of both worlds...