She asked me if I was nervous. You know, I hadn't thought to be nervous. And even after thinking about whether I should be nervous I thankfully can't conjure up that feeling.
While waiting for Baby Cate to arrive, I've been excited ... and reflective ... and thankful ... and focused. I've thought about getting paperwork finished for the social worker ... and questions to ask the attorney ... and how to decorate her room ... and how to balance work and motherhood ... and where to register ... and what to register for. I've been reading ... and talking to people ... and e-mailing my girlfriends ... and going to doctor's visits with the birth mother.
But in the nearly three months we've been pursuing this adoption, I haven't thought to be nervous.
Sure, I've thought about whether a schedule is best. I've thought about how adoptive babies have some different needs from biological children. I realize I'm going to have to stay in Indiana for 3-10 days before we can truly bring Cate home, but I'm actually looking forward to that time -- our time -- in some Hoosier hotel room.
I do wonder how soon she'll sleep through the night or if she'll hate her car seat. I think about what my very first thought will be the first time I hold her. I hope I pay close enough attention to document this beautiful experience.
But I haven't thought to be nervous. And I think only once did I wonder if Cate and I would bond.
Today at lunch my friend asked me if I was nervous. I quickly flipped through the ever-growing list in mind of all the logistics and emotions and responsiblities and possiblities and still didn't find the desire to be nervous.
I'm pretty thankful for that. I'm not saying it's going to be easy. I realize there are stages, and I'll experience a range of emotions with the phone call that she's in labor and on the 4 1/2-hour drive to the hospital and while in the hospital at first and then the hotel and finally when we come home. But this is what we want and we believe it's all perfectly meant to be.
I think the lack of nerves is the presence of peace.