Well, this week is an exciting start to a school year. It’s my final semester of coursework before I transition completely to reading, writing exams, and writing a dissertation. It’s a week filled with excitement and anticipation. I love the courses that I have. Everything is shaping up for a wonderfully energized run of craziness. Seeing how things are shaping up, this is exactly the semester that I want right now.
It’s also the semester that should have been last fall. Not in terms of where I’m at in my program, but in terms of baby expectations. Doria was due last September 15th. I had my plans worked out with professors to answer the phone and dash out of class. I had coverage worked out for the classes I teach. I was ready for everything to come to a sudden, crashing halt at any moment, and I loved it. Of course, things didn’t go that way, and here we are.
This time, I’ve got that hopeful expectation to start the semester again. I like it. I know there’s a deadline, and I think that I need that. I can tell that my nerves are frayed by waiting, and I think Becky’s are, too. It’s a very strange sort of anticipation. There’s kind of the first-time parent anticipation, because it still looks like we’re going to have a living baby. There are schemes, chats with Zoe and the uterus, attempts to motivate, and a whole lot of waiting, like we don’t really know how this works, because we don’t. There’s also the rainbow anticipation. I’m looking forward, but I know what could happen. Our hearts stop around here every day if Zoe decides to take a little movement break. Our hearts jump into motion when she starts moving again. (Yesterday involved some water drinking which forced Zoe to meet her mortal enemy–Mom’s bladder.) It’s enough to wear a person out completely, and it’s early in the semester. I’m very glad that this part ends on Sunday.
It’s exhilarating. It’s exhausting. I love it. I hate it. This one thing I know: I don’t want a break from it. A baby will do just fine.