Week 36

I’m terrified today. Don’t know what brought it on. The calendar maybe. I have nothing on it beyond the end of April; perhaps it would be better served to type large across those first weeks of May, “Have Baby.”

After the blank weeks, the next dates are B.’s graduation for the end of May. And by then we will have a baby.

I can’t tell you what I’m scared of. It’s reminding me of the panic attack I had this summer, my first in a decade, when B. and I were in Istanbul and we got lost in the blocks between the Spice Market and the Grand Bazaar. Although, we weren’t really lost. B. knew where we were, but I was completely disoriented, my inner compass shot that day, and I think I may have written about this already because the panic is the feeling of not having an exit; not knowing my way out, or knowing that there is no way out.

Yesterday morning we began reading to the babe. It was Sunday, and sunny, and lovely in bed; I wasn’t restless at all because I knew we had a day outside waiting for us. The cat, as always, making lounging look good. We began with the book I have read so many times the sentences are as familiar to me as breathing. Indeed, sometimes I write a sentence, and recognize it’s rhythmic origins from these pages. The book is A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith. I think I was ten the first time I read it. On the title page is Bill Cosby’s signature. We saw him in Le Figaro Cafe on MacDougal, and my mother helped get me brave enough to approach him. He made a joke about my name. Yesterday was the first time I’d heard those lines aloud. I cried a few graceful tears. B. was tucked into me. I’m writing this because my urge so often is to write the scares and doubts. Also, because perhaps today I could use a talisman.

Ah now I know what brought it on. Last night I spied another droplet on my boob. I’m reading signs of impending labor everywhere. I keep on wishing for this babe to take it’s time; crossing my fingers for mid-May and I really need to let that go.

Not my timeline, and not my say. Which is sometimes comforting, but today, is…not.

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