I have felt a baby calling to me for a while now. At first it was faint, circling lazily in the hazy, far off distance of the future. But lately it has been coming closer, until now I feel it like a helium balloon, bumping along behind me as I go about my day. When we were in Vegas, M pointed to the ceiling and said “baby” while I was putting her to bed one night. At first I panicked, thinking that perhaps the house was haunted. But then she did it after we came home, too, and I started wondering if she was seeing this little spirit, hovering over its chosen family, watching, waiting.

I have known since M’s birth that I would have another baby. Almost as soon as I held her in my arms, I knew I had to do it all again. Not because M is lacking in any way, but because she is so unbelievably perfect, and fills me with so much love … how could I not want more of that in my life? And I feel like I missed out during her pregnancy. I had no conception of the incredible being I was growing, of how amazing it would be to have this other person in my life. I want to go through another pregnancy with a full understanding of, and appreciation for this miracle. (Yes, I know, there is so much less time for all of this the second time around … but still … I hope.)

We originally talked of trying last year, but decided to wait, with the hopes of catching up on some sleep. Ha. Ha. Ha. So while that hasn’t exactly happened, I’m not getting any younger (will turn 36 this year), and this baby is only getting more insistent. It is definitely getting to be time.

Now don’t get me wrong … I am very ambivalent about this. I am so tired as it is, the thought of adding a second child, a newborn, to the equation; well, it rather makes me sick to my stomach. I like to delude myself and think, this time, s/he will be a good sleeper. In fact, I don’t think I would even consider having another child without that delusion. I know I can’t count on it, but count on it I must if I’m to go forward. And half the problem is that I’m not a good sleeper (at least M comes by it honestly), and that’s something that – while it comes in fits and spurts – does not seem to be changing in any substantial way. I often wonder how on earth I’ll manage with two children. And let’s not even talk about pregnancy. With M, my entire first trimester was spent in a state of nauseous starvation (I actually lost five pounds). I craved food, and yet my stomach revolted whenever it actually sat in front of me. And the fatigue; good lord, I was absolutely flattened. How on earth will I manage taking care of M in such a state? Ah yes, another delusion – this time it won’t be so bad.

But getting pregnant again is not a rational, logical decision. It’s a biological one; a spiritual one. And this baby … damn, this baby will not be denied. I saw my homeopath/healer the other day, and we talked about all this. She told me that as far as she could tell, I was already pregnant (I am not, in case you’re wondering). To her, the actual physical pregnancy is just a part of the continuum, not the beginning. I am already spiritually with child; all that remains is for me to welcome him or her into my body.

And so I stand, poised, my foot hovering in the air. Ready. Almost ready. Almost. Not quite. Now? Not yet. So close. It won’t be long now …