I've been waiting for a few weeks now and I know that my wait has been nothing like his parents' wait. I'm waiting for a nephew to be born.
There's something about waiting for a very small person, whose shape I've only seen on a sonogram, that's more than a little 21st Century-ish. When I was born (and for many years beyond that, let me tell you), there was no such thing as seeing the shape of a little person chillin' in his mama's womb. And knowing the gender of one's unborn child before birth was like considering the concepts of the time machine, the pod people, the aliens that we suspected might be out there but we'd really rather not know about that possibility.
There's also excitement. And hope, lots of hope. Because I'm always bumping up against the limits of my understanding and experience and I can always hope that those who are younger than me can think outside of the boxes I've erected and those I've been presented with. Because there are new ways of being that I haven't experienced yet and I hope that this new young one can introduce me to those ways; even if I only get to live them vicariously. Because in my experience of working with, teaching, befriending and listening to the thoughts of those younger than me, I always learn something new about myself and about the world.
Welcome, little one.