Those same three months promise much bliss and little boredom for me. I plan to devote the cool morning hours to my herb and vegetable garden. The sweltering sunshine that bathes our yard gives great cheer to my most crop of tomatoes. The broccoli raab, however, has bloomed, overgrown its allotted foot of garden space and now shall be uprooted and supplanted by seeds for a fall crop. My arugula will suffer a similar fate, after its blooms have seeded and fallen.
My afternoons will be spent preparing the baby's room, organizing the house, and, of course, reading. I hope to have all things in order before my life changes. After the baby's arrival, I doubt there will be time to scrub or sew.
So, my summer is divided into two: The first month and a half will be devoted to cleaning and preparation. Then - at some unknowable time - it will transition to diapers and midnight feedings. A veil seems drawn over this second half. Hints and illusions to what changes I will undergo can be gleaned from those who have already passed into motherhood, but I, a mother-in-waiting, can only imagine what awaits me. Just as I know the general shape of my child - one head, two arms, two legs, 10 toes - I know the general shape of my life as a mother. The particulars of both are hidden to me. My baby's gender remains a mystery, as does his eye color and personality. My own personality as a mother has not yet been revealed, but shall be soon.
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