Ready or Not

I plan to bring home a baby girl, hopefully 7 pounds-ish, in approximately four weeks. Four weeks? Four weeks! This whole IVF & pregnancy ordeal is suddenly becoming so real. (As if poking around my insides and nether-region hadn't already convinced me of the reality.) So now what? I work for three more weeks. I complain (occasionally if Tim's lucky) about my back hurting. I drink Jamba Juice. I watch movies. I go to church stuff. I enjoy numerous baby showers (thanks, gals!). I read another book or two. And then, bam, I'm a mom? Really? Just like that?

After Tim and I visited the doctor today and listened to a rough time-table for Macie's arrival, I asked him, "Are you ready to be a dad in three-and-a-half weeks?" His answer: "I don't know." Well, daddy-to-be, too late now. I know it seems strange that a couple with fertility issues would have this dilemma. If I saw this blog, I would think, "If you're not ready after trying for three years, maybe it's time to put this idea on the back-burner." But whether we had to wait three years or five years or ten years and on and on . . . I think we would still have the same "Oh my gosh, we're actually having a baby" feelings.

That's actually part of the reason years ago I so wanted to have an "oops, we're pregnant" kind of baby-surprise. I wanted to feel that even though I didn't plan or work for a baby, God saw fit to grant one to me because I would be such an awesome mother. When that didn't happen, the doubts about me as that "perfect mother" set in with a vengeance. Maybe I wasn't supposed to be one after all. It seems that's a common feeling among the fertility challenged such as us.

But on this end of fertility treatment and pregnancy, fully knowing that the world is upside down and no list of qualifications or personality-drawbacks seems to determine whether or not one can make a child, I realize that I still have some of the same insecurities that beset me before Macie's creation. This afternoon as I rested (napped) I contemplated the question I asked Tim: Am I ready to be a parent in three-and-a-half weeks? Anxiety waited, ready to pounce on the question, but instead the first thought that came to mind brought comfort. I MUST be ready because she's almost ready to arrive. After all, she is what makes me "mom." I may not feel ready for 2am, 4am, 6am feedings. Or the nasty diapers. Or the crying--and how the heck do I know which cry means what? But someway or another, I trust that the One who put this baby together in the petri-dish (no, not Dr. Gill--who I highly recommend, by the way) and watched her implant on the bottom right side of my uterus (sorry if that's TMI) and then made her heart beat just on time knows exactly the right time for Macie to enter her destiny while mom and dad try to figure out how exactly parenting fits into our own.