Any minute now. Or any day now. Could be another week. I wonder when this baby is going to make his way out of the womb? Surely, it's got to be soon. I'm considering sitting naked on a big red neon exit sign. Or maybe I could shine a flashlight up there. "This way, Little Man." If only I could manage jumping jacks. But I know he's been busy plotting his escape, and won't come until he's ready. He's methodical that way. Maybe like me. He's making sure everything is finalized in there before he comes out. He can't go back, he knows. And really, I'm okay to wait. I trust him to know when the time is right.

I've been talking to him a lot, telling him how great it's going to be on the outside. So many people eager to love him. Air to breathe, cats to play with, friends to make. We'll dig for worms, play with Tonka trucks, learn the alphabet, listen to music, travel. Later on, I even want to build him a little workshop to house his Lincoln Logs, Tinker Toys, Legos, and Erector Set. Also, the mini plastic hammer, screwdriver and saw he'll need to create his masterful toddler projects. And we'll have an art project area, too. Someplace to get messy playing with paints and clays. We'll create things of beauty, and hideous things just so we can destroy them. We'll laugh. We'll cry. We'll read. We'll walk. We'll plant gardens. We'll cook. Everything. Let me rediscover the world as it's unveiled to you, Precious Child.

I always thought I'd wonder what the baby would look like. I suppose I do, but have some idea that he'll be beautiful and dark, like his dad. I even saw glimpses of my own dad and brother in an ultrasound. Some unique combination of his father's Cherokee and Scottish features, plus the Russian, Polish, Italian and Austrian bits he'll get from me.

But way above that, I wonder who he is, who he'll become? I want to know him. I want to watch him discover the world, to absorb, contemplate and relish the Wonder of it all. What will he know about God? What will he know about life? Will he remember his last incarnation? As much as I look forward to helping him learn, I'm the one that can't wait to learn from him.

I'm brazen enough to think I have some idea of his personality, just from the ultrasound glimpses, and from the way he moves inside me, and from the way we communicate through my absurdly large belly. The way he turns his head sharply as if to say "Who's that trying to come into my little world?" when the ultrasound probe rubs against my belly, leads me to believe that he's got some spunk, and won't be afraid to stand tall in the world around him. When I nudge at him and he responds, I believe he'll be loving and connected. When I feel his little fingers tickling around my pelvis, I think he'll be some curious, dexterous explorer with an artistic flair and great attention to detail. His hiccups make him seem frail and adorable. Add to all that the wisdom of an old soul, a deep sense of the Divine, a grand sense of humor, gentleness, and of course, genius – come on, I AM his mother:). And when I think of him choosing Mel and me as parents, what with our absurdly untraditional, but profoundly loving relationship... well, I just think he must be brave and strong. And wiser than I already. He already knows it's all going to be alright. I knew about the love, but I'm absolutely breathless when I realize how much I already respect and cherish this little soul. Teach me, son, teach me.

And even amidst all this optimism, I'm realistic enough to know that we'll have our days. Things happen. There will be disappointments. As humans, we sometimes fail one another. But even in the adversities, there will be beauty. And there will always be love.

I'm not nervous about motherhood. Had I embarked on such a journey any earlier in my life, I may have been. But not now. I'm ready. And I'm excited. I'm honored to be one of the ones who will help instill the sense of curiosity to set him free. I'm honored to be the breast that will feed him. I'm honored to be the one to bathe him, change him, and watch over him while he sleeps. I'm honored that he's been sent to me, humbled that he's been entrusted to my care.

I didn't see it coming. A year ago, Mel and I had only just met. Who could have predicted this? I never envisioned this in prior relationships. As my age crept up, and I experienced one failed relationship after another, I stopped even allowing myself to dream about this. But now, it's perfect. Mel's perfect. The baby will be perfect. And by perfect, I mean, that it's exactly as it's intended to be, whatever that may look like. Thank you God, and thank you Little Man.

Now come on out and be with us already. Mommy is ready to rediscover her feet.