Patience, grasshopper

In November we had moved to a new apartment in DC so that Eric could work there for a few months. Even though it was winter, we were happy to see there was a little back porch so the cat could go outside and hang out. (It was on the second storey, about 25 feet up, so she wouldn't have jumped.) First afternoon, the sun comes out a little and warms things up to maybe 40 degrees, I take the cat on the porch, the door locks behind us, and voila. Three hours and 15 minutes of 40 degrees with a T-shirt and a cat to keep me warm, waiting for my husband to come home.

Oh yes, I suffered. And I wished and pushed and hated every moment that I was on that porch. (I didn't know Eric's work number, and although I did flag down a Comcast guy who offered to send a ladder up for me, I didn't want to leave the cat, and also a little bit I did not want to make a spectacle of myself, so I stayed put.) At any rate, reflecting on it the next day, I wished I had been a little more openminded. How would it have been to really explore the cold, to just name it and let it sit there with me but not to keep trying to do this impossible thing of getting AWAY from it. Would it have been as bad? Would it have taken less time? There had been lessons in it, and either way I was basically just going to be cold until Eric got home. But because I chose to keep trying to not be there, in a very real sense I basically just wasted all of that time.

And right now, (and this is a weird analogy, I'll admit it, but ...), I may as well be back on that porch. I have five weeks now before the baby comes, and I am wishing it away! What day is it NOW? How many days before next Friday, when there will only be one week before the court date and four weeks before we travel? If I can just get to Monday, then we'll be within one week of it beeing two weeks before the court date ...

And on and on I go. I'm driving myself crazy. I actually wonder if some small part of me thinks that, without my constant urging, time might just get confused and stand still.

How great it would be to just enjoy this beautiful weather and these beautiful people and the sweet babies I work with every day. I mean, and I do. I do enjoy it all. But there is this substrate element to all of my thoughts and each of my moments, and it is: I am just killing time. I am just waiting this all out until the real fun can start. And that, of course, keeps me from truly seeing or listening or being present. Which is a waste of time.

Over and over, the lesson of my life seems to be that any given moment, for all intents and purposes, technically is as good as any other moment. (Supposedly, anyway. :) I have lately begun to realize how much of my life I spend rushing through one thing so that I can get to some OTHER thing, which is expected to be either more important or more fun or more likely to somehow involve eating. :)

My husband and I have five beautiful weeks left together without a baby. The last five weeks of our lives that will ever just be the two of us, one way or another. I have five weeks of yoga in the mornings and unfettered meditation time (not, mind you, of unfettered meditations), of staring at the wall while drinking my morning coffee, of not really needing to plan much of anything, and of really not having anything to worry about.

I don't want to miss this.