Another reason that book got to me was because of a couple of the dates; (**Spoiler alert: If you haven't read this book and want to, skip the next bit of information**) Clare has her baby, Alba, on the same date of the same year that Jooner is due, and Henry's birthday is the same day as my sister and brother-in-law's birthday. The strangest thing about the baby's birthday is that the book was written in 2003, but Alba was born on September 6, 2011. I'm completely reading into this, but it's a weird coincidence just the same.
Yesterday we started cleaning up the house, that endless task. Between the construction in the nursery and the mess that was the spare bedroom (with my sister and her family coming to visit next weekend), my thoughts were, not surprisingly, on Jooner. Painting in the nursery - for the most part - is completed, and Z is going to work on the trim and base today. When I stand in that partially-carpeted, largely empty room, I imagine the crib in the corner, the changing table under the window, and a mobile gently rotating while a soft breeze comes through the windows, and I get excited.
When I tackled the spare bedroom I found some baby clothes that had been kindly donated to us, and last night I did my first load of laundry with clothes sized 3 and 6 months. There's something so different about folding clothes so small. I feel monstrous and uncoordinated with them, imagining the number of onesies and tiny shirts and pants multiplying around me like overactive bunnies, spilling out of the laundry basket and onto the floor. I'm sure that day will come, but for now Jooner's budding wardrobe is contained in a small box next to my dresser. I'm going to enjoy these contained moments.