PELL-MELL MUDDLED MISORDER

Dear Spike:

Your mom is having frequent contractions, though we’re confident that what she is experiencing is Braxton Hicks contractions, part of what is known as “false labor.” Still, it’s a sign that you are getting closer — your mother’s body is preparing for your delivery.

While you’re not due for another month (and we hope you’ll stay in and “bake” for that long) we have come to accept that, in fact, you could come at any time.

That’s a scary proposition for your mother. She hasn’t yet reached the point where it has become so uncomfortable with being pregnant that she is prepared to accept the pain of giving birth. In fact, she’s grown quite used to having you inside of her and, I think, is feeling a bit hesitant about giving you up to the rest of the world.

Planner that she is, your mom has left teaching instructions in her classroom that will allow a substitute to take her class through the end of the year. She’s hoping, though, to make it at least until the final week of school — the same week you’re due. And with a job interview at a school in the city, this Thursday (she’s been coveting an job a bit closer to home since we arrived here, three years ago) she’s definitively against the prospect of giving birth this week.

But, we know, you’ll come when you come. And to the extent it is actually possible to be ready for parenthood, I think we are.

So, for now, we wait for you to let us know when you are ready.

There’s a lesson there, I think, for both of us.

Your mother is a marcher. She likes to make lists, read books, and keep calendars. She likes order and predictability.

I’m a dancer. I like to move with the music, changing my steps as life’s rhythms and melodies dictate.

She’s dependable. I’m adventurous. She’s reliable. I’m rash.

Over time, we’ve rubbed off on one another. She’s learned, as I’ve always known, that adventures are rarely scripted. I’ve learned, as she’s always preached, that it’s not a bad idea to have a destination in mind when you begin a journey.

Now, you’re rubbing off on both of us. I’ve taken to doing things like diapering dolls, to make sure I’m ready for your arrival. She, meanwhile, appears to have grown more accepting of the pell-mell muddled misorder of life that comes with having a baby.

Maybe you’ll arrive on your due date. Maybe you’ll come several weeks later. Or maybe you’ll come tomorrow.

We’re in your tiny hands. And we’re learning from you already.

Love,
dad