Musings

It is past one in the morning, and yet again I find myself wide awake as usual. I am not sure if it is because of my baby’s activity in my womb that is keeping me up, but I am glad she is here to keep me company.

In a few weeks’ time I am finally due to give birth to my first child, but what should be a purely glorious event is now one which gives me mixed feelings. Do not get me wrong, I am of course still looking forward to the impending delivery — there is nothing like a tiny pair of pink onesies to get any mom-to-be excited. It is just that several months ago, when I started envisioning my upcoming delivery, I always assumed I would be calling my Dad and Mom myself while heading out to the hospital. I always pictured Dad wearing one of his trademark caps and favorite shirts while nudging my mom along to hurry to the hospital; standing outside the nursery eagerly anticipating to see my baby; and waiting in my hospital room, ready to tease me, while I awake from my drug-induced sleep. It is still taking me a lot of getting used-to to know, realize, and accept that my thoughts will remain as such — thoughts that will never come to pass.

I believe that the people who know me best would be surprised to find me sharing intimate thoughts in this manner, but I have little recourse at the moment but to try and purge myself of the utter sadness that has taken hold of my life. People will probably be quick to tell me that with my baby on the way I have a lot to look forward to. I know that. The same way I know that if he could, my Dad himself would be one of the first ones to tell me the same thing. But it is a task easier said than done.

Time is said to have the capacity to heal all wounds. For my part I would be happy enough just to have it dull the pain somewhat. And yes, when my baby finally comes, I know she will help fill the emptiness that I seem to be carrying around with me everywhere I go. At this point it is the best I am hoping for.