Two Centimeters and Counting

The latest news is that our Birthmother is 2 and 1/2 centimeters dilated. I say that like I know what that means--I don't. And, everybody you talk to has a differing opinion on what that means. "Oh the baby could come at any minute!" Or, "Oh, it could still be a long time before the baby comes." At any rate, E. (our Birthmother) and her doctor have decided that if she is not in labor by Thursday (a week from today) they are going to induce. This was her decision, totally. I think she is anxious for the whole thing to be over. (But will it really be over, even after the baby arrives?) I suspect not...? I think that it will be just the end of a chapter for her, but not the end of the story.

Anyway, we are still in a scramble, trying to get ready to leave for Boise. Mostly, getting our work done at our prospective jobs before we leave. Which is hard, really, because my mind is not really in my work right now. My brain is elsewhere.

Speaking of my brain, it has a way of playing mean tricks on me. Like keeping me awake at night and asking me such rude questions as, "How do you know this baby will ever love you?" Notice, it did not say "How do you know you will love this baby?" Both heart and brain are at least in agreement about that one: I already do.

But, to baby boy, when he comes into this world, after 9 cozy months in E's fertile womb, I will be just another person in the room. A complete stranger. The only person he has a relationship with so far in his short journey is E. Not me. What qualifies me to take her place in the role of Mother? More years, better finances, perhaps. But so what? Baby boy knows nothing of this, nor of my longing to be a Mommy. All he knows is E.. And yes, people will tell you, a newborn baby doesn't know the difference between his mother and the bedpost. But I don't believe it. I don't believe it because when I was pregnant, even for that short time, I was building a relationship with my baby. I could feel her (in my mind it was a girl) there. I could feel her influence on every thought, feeling, and experience in my life those 8 short weeks. I can only imagine what that relationship would have been like if she'd grown for 9 months--enough to stick her feet in my ribs, like baby boy is doing to E..

I only hope I can rise to be the best soother, bottle giver, bather, rocker, and diaper-changer there is out there. And that one day, baby boy will look at me, and decide to honor me with the word, 'Mother.'