up in the night, she found pen and paper, asked for a clock with a second hand, she’s been going through contractions.
and at once i am fearful and jolted, excited and awash with how quickly, how immediate the future can slam into you. i get out of my sweats, wash up, put on a shirt and some jeans and my sneakers. ready to go.
she says, they’re irregular, most likely, as the doctor said, since the baby hasn’t dropped, it won’t be until next week. i tell her to get some rest, but she wants to keep track, just in case, so she leaves on the light. i go back downstairs.
i sleep in the living room instead of the basement just in case we need to leave in a hurry. she says, i don’t want to have the baby in this house.
and because we don’t have a couch in the living room and the loveseat is too short i sleep on the floor and toss and turn along the slats of wood and find comfort in each and every ache it brings.
it’s really gong to happen isn’t it?