We are on the boy’s time now. Divine waiting – as if the dinner we prepare each night is for someone famous we’re expecting, someone who could knock on the door at any time, someone we’ve never met. We are ready for him at each moment. How do we spend these hours, when so much has been done, so much has been said, so much has been anticipated? It is an incredibly unique time. A pregnant pause.
My wonderful mother is here from Australia for another few weeks, and Isaac’s mother is also here from New York City. Each day Isaac and I wake up next to each other, and we cuddle and snooze as long as we desire. I spend almost an hour before our altar, laden with lilies, gardenia flowers, archangel cards, a rose quartz crystal, Ganesha, our Tibetan singing bowl, the lapis lazuli beads from my Blessingway, and the first dreamcatcher I ever made, hung with an old jangling fertility charm in the center. I made that dreamcatcher one month before our boy was conceived. Magic works.
Mum walks from my brother-in-law’s house through the forest every morning and we welcome her into our home so gratefully. We drink tea and coffee and have breakfast together. I love that we spend almost the entire day in each others’ orbit. Isaac’s mother arrives around 3pm and does the washing up, any laundry, makes salad and salad dressing, her long red hair in a bun at her crown. I’ve been making batches of coconut and almond granola and listening to the stories and advice and conversations of the grandmothers to be. They had only met once or twice before, for Christmas at my sister’s house two years ago, and again at our wedding. They are getting to know each other. It’s a powerful four (five!) that we are.
I take a nap sometime between 4:00pm and 6:00pm and then a walk through the forest to the canal. The flowers are blooming in new places each day. The Hawthorn tree in our garden is full of pink blossoms, violets strew the lawn, the yellow of the Forsythia bushes and daffodils blooms everywhere you look, and the little white hyacinths smell like all the best memories.
When will you arrive beautiful boy? You have chosen a stunning time to enter this part of the Earth. I get the sense that you are just waiting for your stars to align, the stars that you have chosen. Isaac plays piano every night for us and you move to the music. I have been making dream catchers, a hanging mobile of Australian shells. Mum and I watch old home movies each night and we laugh and cry, drink the same tea and eat the same cake.
I am so moved by the beauty of life at this time. With all the time in the world to watch Isaac play piano by candlelight, I weep with a kind of intense joy. When he looks at me for minutes at a time, I weep more. We are at the most incredible, indelible peak. I feel I have left one landscape behind, and I’m camped with my family on the edge of a great cliff, knowing that some day a voice will beckon us to the drop, and we will leap together. Until then, the flowers and the wind and the piano keep us company. We will keep baking bread, boy. Come when you’re ready, we can hardly wait to meet you.