It's a little after noon in the quaint township of Plainsboro. There's a cool breeze trickling through the balcony sliding doors, and you can hear the rustling of needles from the Pine trees that reside outside our bedroom window. The sun is shining brightly into the nursery room, illuminating the space that is reserved for our little bundles. In the corner, there is a black lump of fur taking in the rays, curled up in himself and trying to keep reign of the room that used to be his palace. The cat tree dome has been removed, his toys have been banished to the living room, and his windows have been occupied with strollers and bouncy baby seats. And yet, in the small spaces between these objects, he stakes his claim, staring back at us with two yellow, focused eyes screaming, "you can take my tree, but you'll never take my window!" The other lump of stripes is wandering aimlessly through the apartment, staring out into the patio; wishing that his paws could open the door so he could run free. There are bunnies out there, he has seen them, and they hop teasingly along the grass path, stopping to say hello, wiggle their noses, fluff their tails, munch on grass, and mock the freedom that they possess. They meow every once in a while, just to make sure that we hear them, they check up on us, and then they go back to their spots and sleep some more. Today is their birthday- a whole three years old, but they don't ask for much. All they want is food, water, litter, a few rubs on the head, and freedom. They accept the first 4 requests, and stubbornly abandon the last one.
In the bedroom, we sit, my husband and I, trying to find some way to keep ourselves entertained. It's Easter Sunday, and with our families so far away, it just doesn't feel like a special day. It feels the same, a bundle of days that have become hours where we can sleep, eat, and exist. We ourselves have become cats. I sit at the main computer, blogging about the day, observing the things around me, and thinking about what to make for lunch. Jay, sprawled out on the bed, reads his tweets, posts some comments, and looks for ways to intrigue the Job world into hiring him. If we could meow, we probably would, just to ensure that we recognize each other, and then we would crawl up in our respected areas and nap too. With the babies only weeks away, 5 to be exact, according to the doctor that is, I am not too enthused by walking around in the stores. The thought of over exerting my legs and then having to deal with additional Sciatica and leg cramps at night, have caused me to dread every day activities. They are heavy in there, stretching my tummy to the point where I feel like they could literally carve their own way out through my belly button. I don't sit too long, because I am convinced that sitting restricts the room for Emy, as she resides in the basement and needs as much space as possible. It came to me one day, a few days back, that Joshua had broken out the hammock, hung it to my rib cage, and has been joyfully swaying in the top half of my abdomen for at least 10 weeks. He has no intentions of giving up that prime realty spot. Emy, in protest, takes out her injustice by punching her mom square in the bladder- a feeling that I could not describe in any other way then feeling as if little hands are reaching for the sunlight.
Our calendar days, Monday through Sunday, have become no more than sleep time, eat time, and social time (that's usually just a walk through Baby's R Us or a wander at the Walmart). My hours have become nothing more than two hours since our last pee break. And Jay's hours have become just another hour towards the interest of a recruiter. The most exciting part of the day, which I can't complain at all about because it's the single most important part of our existence, is watching the babies kick, punch, and feeling them swim. They are our purpose now, our sole reason for existing, and the physical reproduction of our love and admiration for one another. So we wait impatiently for their little feetsies to feel the air, for their two sets of eyes to see their parents for the first time, their little voices to carry in harmony, and their little hands to grasp their mommy and daddy's fingers for the first time. We wait, praying to God that he continues to keep them safe, and prepares them for the day when they will be born and held with the utmost love, devotion and dedication of their parents who have struggled so much for that moment.
