In my mind I picture it as a snapshot. I see it through a window frame - a frozen moment where whatever is about to come next does not exist.
Having a baby, getting married, seeing a new country - once you experience it you know all about it - how it looks, feels, tastes, sounds, smells. You will carry that knowledge with you the rest of your life. In the moments just before there is this place that is the last time, the last place, you will not know.
That's me and Jeremy before. Before we knew Hayden, before we knew about the struggles that come with marriage, before we owned a house, when we could fit everything we collectively owned into his 1981 Toyota Corolla.These are the last days I will ever wake up, breath, eat, sleep, think without knowing what my daughter looks like. How she breathes when she sleeps, her delights and her pains, her smell.
So many people have said to me: "are you so excited?" "can you just not wait?" the same questions I would be asking, but the answer is not what they are expecting. I am excited but I can wait a few more days. I am trying to create that picture in my head. The one before Zeni. Not because I don't want her to be a part of my life, or because I want her to be a part of me and my family, but because this is the last moment before I will never not know.