When "Nesting" Means Leaving for a Year
It’s a German heat wave, the hottest temperature on record in the country’s history. Meine Gute! They say the heat has trickled up from Africa but Germans, being unaccustomed to this insanity, haven't found the need for AC before. Or ice! I’m walking around like an Emperor penguin, nine months pregnant, dragging an oscillating stand fan from room to room. Michael also surprised me with one of those 99 Cents Store face fans (works wonders).
I'm folding tiny borrowed pink onesies my German friends have lent me (this box you can keep, but this one can you give back). These accoutrements are so SMALL, they fit in the palm of my hand like a Netherland dwarf rabbit. How can I even imagine that in a few weeks (or sooner) I will be squeezing a little person into one?
Our de facto baby room is my office, and her clothes are on a shelf under my grandparents' Cominotto Uve e Vase that I vied for when they passed away. It hung by their front door my entire childhood, and always reminds me of Christmas. It still smells like their house.
For now, this will do. Because we are leaving. For a year.
We are only staying here in Germany for a few months before we pack our bags and head to my home, San Diego, for 6 months and then a Round-the-World trip. At least that's the plan. (Yes I will miss my friends and Bavarian culture I've fallen in love with, but I can rest easy that things won't change too much in a year:) My husband Michael (if you don’t know him already) is one of the “most traveled people” in the world (that’s really a thing.) He's seen almost all the countries. So you can imagine that a family like this would want to seize the opportunity while we have the time. So we are leaving. For a year.
We should be building changing tables and painting the baby room some form of unisex pink. We should be "nesting". But really, we are looking at backpacks and carriers that macgyver as travel chairs and Michael has ordered his next round of Lonely Planets covering the South Pacific, South Africa and Indonesia. We have plans. And I have no idea how small she is going to be when she gets here.
It's scary writing into the future. What if something happens? But you have to let your guts and your heart out on the table and trust that it's just going to work out. Michael taught me that. If you don't believe it's going to happen the way it should, then you'll always live in fear of the "what ifs". Here's to the future. Here's to the unknowns. Here's to the adventure of life. Have you traveled with your baby before? What was it like?