November 1, 2005
When you get up early to re-grout the bathroom tile before going to work, is that nesting? I've got it bad. I just couldn't envision bathing a baby with stained tile above her head. Meanwhile, I spent my weekend anchoring bookshelves and file cabinets to the walls.
Perhaps Tom should be doing these things (my lower back will attest to that), but I'm actually more at home with the power drill than he is. And he doesn't quite get the urgency of my recent obsessions. That time needed to be re-grouted now. Not in two weeks. Now.
Recent visits with toddlers have me viewing my home as a battle zone, as a barbed-wire obstacle course with the emergency room at the other end. My child won't be born crawling, but I can't resist this primal urge. Must... have... house... ready... for... two-year-old. Besides, it was easier taking all of the books from shelves and putting them back after my anchoring job without an infant who needs to be fed, rocked, and diapered.
Feng Shui for Baby
My home projects are limited to explicitly baby ones. I simply had to paint murals on the dining room walls. I simply had to replace a desk chair. I had to reorganize the computer cabinet.
Our home must be in perfect order before the baby comes home. He will surely sense any chaos in the arrangement of furniture or aesthetics, right? When she wails at 2:00 a.m., it will be due to the touch-up painting needed in the hallway, right?
I know my recent hang-ups aren't quite rational. I feel like Bree van de Kamp. Yet the intensity of my feelings on things like light fixtures cannot be denied.
Suddenly I relate to that dog who circles around ten times in one place before lying down, only to get back up, circle some more, and do it again. One's nest, one's resting spot, must be just right. Even if no one else understands!
The Countdown Begins
Part of my urgency to get the nest "just so" stems from my desire to focus solely on the baby these last three months. If my house is in order, then I can turn my attention to things like baby showers and labor preparation.
I will tour birthing suites, attend my first La Leche League meeting, find a pediatrician, stock the nursery, and pack for the hospital. I will see my doctor bi-monthly, then every week.
Just thinking about these next few months makes me dreamy. The surreal excitement reminds me of the time building up to our wedding, when suddenly those parties and showers were for me, not another one of the countless brides I'd served as bridesmaid. When I could hardly wait to wear that sumptuous white gown! When it seemed almost unreal to think that Tom and I would finally become one flesh!
When things you've waited for your entire life begin coming true, it's the most wonderfully strange thrill.
Hormones may send me up and down, nesting urges may have me desperately repainting the ceiling, but my overriding thought is gratitude for one more day of my baby's life.