Expecting

When you look at me, you do not think I am expecting. You don't see the bulge in my tummy, the cute t-shirt that says "baby on board", the expectant mother waddle in the later months of pregnancy. But I am expecting. Perhaps I am not nauseous from morning sickness, only from the expectation of hearing that my dossier made it to China safely. I may not be craving pickles or ice cream from the hormonal changes to my body, but I am craving wine and chocolate to take away some of the anxiety that comes from too many delays and revised "expected referral dates". You don't see the bags of baby clothes and boxes of supplies, but only because I don't know how old my child will be and what she will need.

But, make no mistake. I am expecting. You may not see the physical signs, I may act as if "all is well" and "when it happens, it happens", but - make no mistake, this child is on my mind every minute of every day. She is as much with me in spirit as if I was physically carrying her for these many months.

The question then is not "are you expecting" but "who are you expecting?". Who will this little person be? Will she be quiet and shy like I was when I was little? I know she won't have my curly hair or Arny's eyes. Will she have either of our sense of humor, or will she be a serious child? What has she experienced in her short life so far and what of that will she bring with her?

I wonder if all of the reading I've been doing, all the discussions and planning, all the decided "ways to do it" will make a bit of difference. It's all so unknown.

Will she turn my life upside down? I do know she has already turned my heart inside out.