This evening, it was my intention to rest. Instead I opened the door to let the dog out and Ramona followed. And so did I. The unbearable sweetness, the hope, and easiness of this time makes me feel so still. I have a list of things to do. The list has a staple in it. But I feel fine. I am pretending if I say I'm scared. I'm too stupid to be scared. Before Ramona came it was the same. I have that soft layer of hope that incubates women waiting for babies.
I want to remember this time. I want a small blurry picture of everything I feel, every step my family makes up until the morning my next baby comes.
I'm going to try to tell the small story, the nearly daily account before it all changed. For the better. Wish me luck. It won't be easy to write every day.
But let's begin with today. Back to the sliding glass door. First the dog went out and then the girl. I sat on the deck with Ramona. She stood at the corner, working up the nerve to jump off. It scared me, but I thought she could do it so I sat silently.
"Mama, turn your head away so you don't get scared for me", says Ramona. It will be her birthday one week from today. She will be three. I get tears in my eyes and a huge lump in my throat every time I think about her birthday. But not because she's growing older. I love that she grows older. But I'm so proud I can't stand it. And it makes me cry because it's too beautiful to stand.