Woobies-2/25/11

Everyone has one, even if they won't admit it.

I have one.

I haven't slept in my bed for over a month, there are lots of reasons, but they all boil down to one clear thing.

My couch is my woobie. It always has been, it always will be. Couches may come and go from my life as the years pass, but curling up and sleeping all snugly is my woobie.

All around me are the signs that a child is coming. A.child.is.coming.

Toys in the corner, bins of clothes everywhere, pails of paint from the 2 rooms I decided to redo, along with the kitchen, all because I wanted to make things right, for her. For Ming. There are piles of new socks on the floor, tiny, tiny, new socks. The colors bright and shiny like I can only hope her smile will be. There's a crib with pretty yellow gingham sheets. There are baby books, toys that make all sorts of noise when you just breath on them.

There are lists. Oh lord, there are lists. Some of the things are actually checked off, but sadly not one thing is really completed. But I'm calm about all that. I've accepted things will not be done. I've accepted that the plumbing, wiring and definitely the tiling will not be finished in time.

There are updates after updates about where in the world my documents currently are. Right now? The US Embassy in Guangzhou.

And there is fear. Terrible, incapacitating fear. There is the reality that 5 years ago when Sophia was born, I was ready. I was most certainly ready. The closets full, the room decorated with love, the books read and read to see how life would unfold for her after she was born.

Irony is being more ready than you realized for the birth of your first child and having it all come crumbling down into a nightmare. Irony is finally coming to believe that a child is going to be joining my life, that I'll be creating a family. And dammit, I am not ready. I admit it. Now that it's finally here I'm panicking.

I cry a lot, I worry, I fear that I won't be good enough for Ming. That I will not give her the love, happiness, safety, joy and fulfillment that she deserves. And sometimes, I admit it, the fear is paralyzing. And this brings me to the coccoon. As I curl up on the sofa with a comfy blanket on me, the TV lulling me to sleep and all around me signs that Ming is really coming, I feel safe. I feel at peace, I feel protected and I count down the nights till I no longer have to sleep on the couch to feel life is going to all work out.

I am not ready. Not one bit ready and I've accepted that. I have no idea when I'll travel, what steps are next or how the hell I'm going to handle this trip alone. I am in denial about the details, but for the first time in my life I think the details are all BS anyway. It's not the details that matters, it's the big stuff. I'm focused on the big stuff and that it will all work out somehow.

My woobie is my couch. I admit it.