My hair is cut. My nails are done. The clothes are in a laundry basket on the floor of my closet, awaiting transfer to the big rolling suitcase. My reading material and crossword puzzles have been considered and collected; I'm still vacillating between a vast array of totes/carry-ons/purses. I have the yarn and the crochet hooks for the extra-large blanket the kids requested sitting in the closet of the room I'll be occupying.
My granddaughter and I are on our way.
The baby is descending nicely, thank you for asking. Mom is in love with yoga's cat and cow poses, and credits them for keeping everything moving in the right direction. They promised that she won't deliver today or tomorrow, but I am very glad that my plane ticket puts me on the ground in Chicago tomorrow night.
Little Cuter still can't really get her head around it, or so she claims. I think she's as close to it as it is possible to be. There is no real preparation for the all encompassing nature of motherhood. No one can explain how odd it is to have a piece of your heart residing in another, much smaller, much more demanding, much needier, much more vulnerable being.
There's your human ... the one who lived under your heart for almost 40 weeks ... who must now face the world without the comfort of her mother's womb. She'll be out there and you will be responsible as the world becomes filled with worries and delights.
Just thinking about it has my eyes filling with tears of joy. I've never felt this way before. My baby is having a baby .. and just moments ago, it seems, she was tiny and beautiful and mine.