When I was in high school, I was in Into The Woods. I sang and danced as the Wolf, lecherously hungry for little red riding hood. The whole play was about trying to get the thing you want most, and the more that I think about it, that is what life is all about too. Jack and his mother wanted money, Red Riding Hood wanted to make her grandmother happy, Cinderella wanted to get away from her sisters, and all I want is my daughter to come soon.
I want her to be here in my arms. I want to look at her and get to know her. I want her to be the perfect vision that I have seen for nearly ten months now. Is there anything that could happen now that I would care more about than my daughter coming. No, not a chance.
My mother told me that all my Kara has to do is to sit on the edge of the bed and put her hands on her stomach then say, “Baby out. Baby out.” I don’t see how it could not work. I just need my mind to switch over into “Dad mode.” I have seen glimpses of it when I am putting together Isabelle’s crib. I just can’t seem to make it stay. This overwhelming feeling of pride and hope. I want it to be with me always.
I am uncomfortably ready. Not uncomfortable in the sense that I don’t know what to expect. I don’t have the slightest clue of what to expect, but that is not why I am uncomfortable. I am uncomfortable because there is nothing left to do but wait. Sure, I could be planning lessons. I could be fixing the floor. I could be organizing the back room in the basement. I could, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but Isabelle.
She isn’t even here yet, and I am already willing to kill for her. I am willing to do anything to ensure that she is okay. There is no way to test this willingness except to put me into a situation of true peril, and I hope that never happens. I am confident, though, that were I to be faced with choosing to eat molten pieces of glass covered in anthrax and then jump from 1000 feet without a parachute or seeing my baby harmed in any way, I would pull up a glass of milk and choke the delicious glass down.
I just have one question. Not when, but why? As in why isn’t she here? Why isn’t she with me right now? Why is she waiting for one more instant? Doesn’t she know that I am ready. Doesn’t she know that I will give her a blessed love forever? Doesn’t she see the agony I am in just sitting here and typing out things that aren’t yet real when I could be looking at the only thing that matters to me right now? She should know. She should come. Now.