Daylight Fading

Saturday, while buying three-dollar pink suede boots (with fringe) for my yet-unborn daughter, I got another text message from The Boy. This time, a picture of him in front of a horse monument. Later, a video of a band playing on a corner and man dancing with two brooms. "I love this. Wish you were here," he said. At my insistence, he had traveled to the Big Easy with our friend Ryan to explore and see his beloved Saints play. Not excited at the prospect of being alone at home, I headed to Richmond to hang with Amber and the kids.

The Boy did Bourbon Street and alligator sausages at the Superdome; I did the three-year-old's hair (badly) and shared my granola bar with the grunting one-year-old. I watched penne get thrown on the floor at the Olive Garden. Sunday, Amber said, "Sorry friend. Not the weekend away you were looking for." I always love my time with Amber, regardless of the circumstances. We watched a Hugh Grant movie and ate gigantic ("reduced fat") ice cream sundaes. I'm sure my visit there had something to do with the five pounds I've gained in the last two weeks.

But maybe, given my impending motherhood, it was a tad overwhelming. I called The Boy and said I wasn't sure I was cut out to have kids. He reminded me that we're only having one right now. And coming home, the house empty except for the dog, I remembered that even in an exciting time, it's important to cherish what's here now. Last night: me on the couch, eating reheated rice (and later, ice cream) and watching Tim Gunn on TiVo. I can do that now. No one was yelling for help wiping their tushie; no one needed me to give them a bath. There will be many days and years for that, and I am excited about the whole of it. But even the mundane now is special in that it won't be here forever.

We are into autumn now, and I am coming up on my third trimester. I can't believe how short the days are already, and everything is framed in the impending arrival of the girl who is already changing everything. At a follow-up sonogram last week, we learned that my amniotic fluid is still low, and it appears that the baby's right kidney is dilated. Tomorrow morning I'll see a perinatologist and have another sonogram. No one will tell me anything until there's more to say. I'm not excited to see a doctor with "high risk" in the explanation, but I'm glad we're being cautious. And I'll never complain about seeing my little girl.