The Waiting Days

I won’t soon forget the past few days. There are events coming that I know I will never forget, but there is also something memorable about the days and weeks that preceded them. What might make this period of waiting different from others is we don’t know when it will end. Most wait for a commercial break or Friday night or Christmas, marking off the days on a calendar. But in our instance we have no idea when our little girl will be born and no idea when the new list of posts for us to bid on will be released.

Elise’s due date has come and gone, and, now, I have received word that the release of the second list will most likely not come until next week. More waiting. But the thing is either could come at any minute.

Every time my office phone rings and I see Elise’s cell phone number in the call ID, I wonder if this is it.

I still run at lunch. I tell myself what are the chances Elise will go into labor during this one hour of recreation. Nevertheless, I have taken to running a three mile loop around my building which never takes me further than a one half-mile (a two and a half minute sprint) from a quick rinse and then on my way home. I’ve grown rather fond of this route. My old route, an out and back to the Chinese Embassy, is characterized by a grueling 1.5 mile uphill on the return. An out and back also means I run anywhere from 3 to 4 miles with the wind, most days, to my back as it comes off Lake Paranoá. This, in turn, means, without a headwind, I grow hotter and hotter under the 31 degree noon-day sun. By the time, I turn around, it’s usually too late. I’m overheating. But my new route has shorter ascents and descents and it is a loop, meaning just as I start to feel hot, I usually turn into a cooling headwind. I’ll miss this route, because, as much as I like it, I’m not fond of running by the front gate where my co-workers, going to or returning from lunch, see me. Though I should take pride in the fact that I run at lunch rather than belly up to an all you can eat churrascaria, I still feel like people think I’m crazy for running in the heat of the day. To me, it is the difference between running at noon or not running at all. There is no choice, really. If noon is the only time of day I can run, then that’s when I run.

I also find it easier to stay motivated when I don’t know which day is going to be my last day to run. I tell myself I am just ‘maintaining my fitness’ until after the baby is born, gets settled and I can start training again, but, in reality, I don’t know when I’ll be able to run like this again. After Peter was born, I didn’t run for a year and half. I don’t anticipate that will be the case this time around, but I’m definitely not taking running for granted.

Each day of waiting makes all of us a little more anxious. None more so than Sam who seems to feel everything a bit more acutely than most. Not only is he aware of the baby’s new arrival, but, despite the fact that we only talk about bidding after the boys go to bed, I begin to suspect he suspects that we will not stay in Brazil forever. I’m not ready to admit that we have to leave Brazil and I know Sam isn’t either. Our time here will go fast, and I hope it will be easier to prepare him for our next adventure after we know where we are going.

Again this morning, as I drove him to school, he asked when we were going to leave Brazil. My go-to response has been, “Not for a long, long time, Boobaluh.” But I don’t think he is buying this anymore. So I told him we wouldn’t be leaving Brazil for a long time, but when we did we would be going to a new country, on a new, exciting adventure. He seemed to like that idea, but he also wanted to go to Ma and Grandad’s house someday, because he likes that country, too.

Though time, as ever, is at a premium, I am trying to make sure Sam is getting enough of my attention. In order to make him feel special, we gave him the option of going to get his haircut and go out for ice cream or build a train or Legos in the playroom. Of course, he chose anything to do with ice cream, even if it meant having to get his haircut first. The truth of the matter is, Sam is the one who asked us if we would take him to get his haircut. I think both Elise and I were content to let his hair poof out, so he looked like a skinny Q-tip, but Sam had other designs, and his impetuousness seemed mollified, at least for the moment, by a sleek new ‘do. Not to mention he looks about 4 years older now.

On the way home we stopped at Pontão for iogurte. As much as we would like to curl up into a ball and hibernate until the waiting is over, Sam and Peter do not give us this option, and we should thank them for that. Because there are no waiting days for them. There are just playing days, school days, bath days, running in the sprinkler days, movie night days, going to Pontão days and coloring Ferdinand days. They don’t wait for anything, not milk, juice or dinner, so why should they start now? And they certainly aren’t going to wait for a new baby and a new list. There is wisdom to this that I thank them for it. Then we read books, brush teeth and go to bed. When we do, we don't know if this will be the night or if this will be our last restful night for awhile, but we do know we have arrived one day closer to our destination without even realizing it.