It feels like that Björk song that starts out with that line, in a throaty whisper. Then builds up to a brassy refrain that sounds like it comes from a 50s musical. Now everything is calm, I’m in my apartment- piddling, cleaning, resting; my main company until my husband comes home is Chat-chat. There’s no crying, no diapers to change. The baby is still inside, occasionally moving a foot rather vigorously, but still hidden. But soon, all that will change.
I’m sure that in a few months, the memory of being pregnant will be just that. And a distant one. Now it almost seems I will always be in this state. I can barely remember what it was like to have a flat stomach and feel my ribs. I’m used to carrying my offspring around with me all the time. But in a few weeks she’ll be introduced to her stroller and crib and perhaps one of those baby-back/stomach packs. Instead of being a vague idea, she will be pink flesh and tiny fingers.
Now we are just in the wondering stage. We wonder what color hair she will have. My husband hopes she’ll be a bit red-headed like me, and perhaps my own vanity would like that too. To have a mini-me? But there are plenty of dark-headed folks on both sides of the family, too, so it could go either way. And her eyes? Probably light, we guess, since the immediate family all have blue or green eyes. My rudimentary genetic skills from school taught me that. Could she be taller than us, my husband wondered this weekend? There are some tall ones in our families, too, like my sister and my dad’s side. Imagine our “little” girl towering over us at 15! Of course, what’s most important is that her heart is strong, she’s got good lungs to deliver that first cry and that everything else is in order.
I read my baby books sort of like I’m studying for an exam. Ok, no pillows or big blankets in the crib, check. Don’t heat up bottles in the microwave, check. But soon will come the practical exam. Luckily the hospital here teaches you lots of important things those first days, like how to give baby her bath, how to clean out her eyes and nose, I suppose. How to feed her, how to hold her. Then they’ll let us loose on our own to frantically remember all that.
Then the hard work (and the fun?) will begin.