I sit here, at exactly one a.m. on what is now Monday but feels like a lost in between time outside of reality, and gently rock my baby to sleep. She is not the baby I wanted, not the flesh and blood baby of my body that would have come into the world on my birthday this November, not the discarded fur baby someone left in a dumpster that called out to my inate sense of motherhood, not even the creamy dreamy powder puff I picked so carefully from the shelter. No, the baby I hold is the one I was meant to have and the one I am ultimately glad to be holding.

She is a tiny thing, ribs visable beneath her short striped grey on grey fur. She is long and delicate, so small I can hold her in one hand which is exactly what I am doing now. She rests on my sizable busom, which I normally detest but which always seems to come in handy whenever a baby is around, human or feline. She is purring while she dreams, having fallen asleep to the lullaby of my heart. Her mouth and feet wiggle involuntarily and I wonder what she’s dreaming and if she is happy to have found a home with me.

Perhaps it is my looming birthdate that makes me nastalgic, perhaps it is the absense of my husband and my fear that he will not return, the same fear that always hovers around me when he is away like an annoying cloud of nats on a hot summer day. Then again, perhaps it is the heat, which even now in the wee hours of the morning leaves me breathless and sticky. Most likely is it the lack of sleep which no amount of pop music and caffine can hold at bay forever.

All I know is that I sit here thinking odd thoughts and feeling both appreciative and melancholy. Every shadow is an ominous figure, every strange sound a reason to panic. What if there is a black out and I am left here in the dark (something I am terrified of even at my age). What if my cats never stop hissing and swatting this new little one. What if, and this is worst of all, Sean doesn’t make it home. The mere thought brings tears to my eyes and I feel I am drowning. If anything were to happen to him…I can’t even imagine the result. All I know is that I would not long survive him and I would not want to.

It’s times like this I thank the Creator for the simple pleasures in my life. The soft pajamas I wear more often than ‘real’ clothes, the piles of books that take up to much room and never fail to trip me at the worst possible time. The chocolate soy milk I love that always makes me feel sick afterwards or the fans blowing hot air that make it just barely livable in here. The radio station that plays songs I actually like, the tap on the window that always proceeds the friendly delivery man who never forgets to tell me to have a good day. My cats, who seem so trivial and even distasteful to some people, who keep me from going insane even when they are the source of my frustration. And above all, Sean. Who, and I know this sounds gooshy, is literally my life, my best friend, my whole reason for living. And I am not ashamed to say so.

The kitten is asleep now and though she is not the baby I thought I wanted, is the baby I needed. Much like Sean, who is nothing like the guy I always thought I would marry, and is a million times better. Sometimes we don’t know that what we need most of all is what we want the least. I’m told God works in mysterious ways and if I believe anything about the Ceator it is definately that. I no longer curse the Creator for the pain I had to endure or wish that I could go back and change it all, I no longer wonder why I had to be sick and isolated for the last five years. It was all for a reason that I never could have understood then but now am grateful for.

Gently I transfer little Niobe, who suits the name better than the kitten I originally picked, into her carry case amidst her stuffed animals and my old shirt. She yawns and I smile, I can’t help it and I defy anyone to keep from smiling when a baby of any species does something so endearing. She snuggles up with her stuffed caterpillar and I go back to the computer. Suddenly she sneezes and with lightening fast reflexes I am inches from her, checking to see that she is ok, patting her to help her get back to sleep and hoping she isn’t coming down with a cold. I have good mommy instincts and mentally I pat myself on the back. When the time comes I will be a good mother but until then I can practice on this little ball of whiskers and fur.

Thank you Creator for all that you have given me and all that you made me work for. Thank you for the things I asked for and the things I never knew I needed. Thank you for Sean, who makes it all worthwhile. And please bring him home safe to me. In the end, that’s all I really need.

Good luck and blessings, Prana

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