One Year: Part Two
This is what I was doing the day you were born. One year ago today. You arrived two weeks early and we signed our paperwork two weeks late. We met in the middle. Perhaps some sort of sacred contract we were all to live out. A plan written that was beyond our control.
I wasn’t at your birth. I didn’t even know you existed. Instead I was sitting on a shipping crate in Downtown LA drinking a smoothie and about to get my brows done with Rosy in tow. A normal day for the most part except that I was watching my phone like a lovesick teenager.
Every day I would ask Matt, “Do you think it’s today?” He would say that he wasn’t sure but that it would be soon and I should enjoy the quiet.
I sat in your room and sorted your children’s books. I had two pieces of clothing for you - an Iowa Hawkeyes sweatshirt that I wore as a baby and a Sade tee shirt. I didn’t know how old you’d be. If you were a boy or a girl. I knew nothing except that I already loved you.
So I was sitting here when you were born filled with love. I would’ve loved to have taken you in my arms right away and whispered that you were safe, that were loved and you were right on time. But because I wasn’t in charge (oh, how I’ve learned this lessons a million times over this year!) I loved you from afar, on a shipping crate, waiting.