Am I Ready?

I'm sitting in what will be our baby's room right now. Clearly, it is still our "computer room". The walls are painted a beautiful, sunny yellow (which we did way before we knew we were having a baby and just happened to like enough to keep), but other than that it's pretty dismal in here. Let me take you on a brief tour. On one side of the room, there are piles of boxes full of clothes my husband and I couldn't bear to get rid of and haven't looked at since we moved...over a year ago. There is a gigantic TV in the middle of the floor by the door (NOT a flat screen by any stretch of the imagination), that I'm not sure even works anymore. In the far corner, there is a collection of monogrammed towels - still in their cellophane - that I got for my wedding...two years ago. There are frames without pictures stacked haphazardly (they fall nearly every time you walk in the room), a step ladder of mysterious origins, wrapping paper, thank you cards, old food magazines, a half empty jar of Vaseline (?), pens, photo albums, a heating pad, a dog leash, and three enormously fat cats sprawled across the floor. Oh. And one small pile of baby clothes balanced precariously on top of another pile of precariously balanced junk. This room is not ready for a baby. Not even close. It is the room things get lost in on the way to their "real place". I'm six months pregnant and time is running out, but I'm still waiting for that "nesting" urge I've been told takes over a pregnant woman's life. It's not that I'm not excited to have this baby...I am often sick with love for her...and waiting for her to be born is the most exquisite kind of ache (think never-ending Christmas Eve when you're a kid). I can't wait to smell her, feel her heart beating, watch her sleep. And I think I'm ready for it all...even the diapers and the throw up and the never-ending nights. But her room? Ugh. I can't get inspired. I can't get going and I don't know what that means. There is a lot we give up when we become mothers....there is a lot that changes. Old routines become new ones...they have to. And some of the things and people that used to fill our days (and nights) fade away. I know the nine+ months I will be pregnant are a time for my baby to form and grow and begin the insane miracle that is life. But it's also a time for me to grow, for me to change. And I've changed a lot. But is it enough? I guess what I'm saying is when I look around this room and I see all the clutter and all the mess and the bare walls and the fat cats and their endless piles of fur, I wonder if I am ready. Will I be a good mother? Have I changed enough?
There are two hummingbirds outside my window now. They are whizzing around and singing at the top of their lungs. They must make their nest near us...I've seen the happy couple all summer long and I can only assume they've laid eggs and raised babies and sent them on their way. Hummingbirds are among the smallest of birds...they are almost impossibly tiny. And it's the female who is responsible for building the nest...the males are too brightly colored and attract too much attention. So for about a week that little mama toils, for hours every day, alone...building her nest out of spider webs, moss, leaf hairs, twigs and seeds. Out of junk she makes something beautiful...an intricate work of art. And she forms it with her own body. There is instinct there, but I like to think there is also love. And that I know I have. My baby will be born before I know it and the adventure will begin. And I will be shattered with love for her and the junk my husband and I have accumulated in our 6 years together will help form her life and fill this house and tell our story and build our nest. And my daughter's beautiful, sunny yellow room will be ready for her because I will be ready for her.