Your room is ready.
Everything is washed and hung,
sanitized and organized.
All we need now, is you.
You will be earth side soon
and I cannot wait to meet you!
But honestly, simultaneously,
I’m fighting against a tireless trepidation.
Because last time we did this, my baby almost died.
Last time we did this, my body didn’t heal right.
And last time we did this, my mind was broken,
functionally fragmented for quite some time.
Last time we did this, the marriage was tested, pushed to its limits. Last time we did this, we choked on expectations, left gasping for revaluations. And last time we did this, I was lost for a while,
in a fog of conflicting, confounding, conundrums.
And it was like that for a while.
And last time we did this, there wasn’t this menace.
This encompassing invisible enemy,
wholly encapsulating while steadily encroaching,
threatening you and me, and our family.
Alone, I am helpless against this infectious invader.
And neighbors have forgotten to be neighborly,
forgotten how to empathize and strategize as one connected community. There is this abandonment of benevolent togetherness.
Instead, we are disjointed individuals,
selfishly fighting, spitting, and spewing,
defiantly living in putrid persistence,
just so we can say, “nobody made me.”
And even though last time we did this, there wasn’t this threat.
The last time we did this, I didn’t know my strength nor Daddy’s solidity. Last time we did this, I didn’t know what motherhood’s joyous offerings would be. And last time we did this, we got your older brother who added perfectly to our family.
And this time we do this, I know a bit more.
And this time we do this, I can rely on resiliency.
And this time we do this, I can ease up my self-deprecation, and the self-examination, along with the self-condemnation.
And this time we do this, it doesn’t have to be like the last time we did this. Because this time is it’s own time.
And we can cultivate how perfectly imperfect
this time will be.
