Have you ever been in a plane that was in a holding pattern over the city in which it was due to land? Holding patterns suck. Yet there is nothing you can do about the airport traffic or weather or whatever it is that is holding up the landing process. One is forced to sit...and wait. We are in a holding pattern concerning this pregnancy. There is nothing we can do and we anxiously await the landing.

There are moments in our waiting that are bearable. Like this past Saturday when friends invited us to their new home and we tore down a wall. It felt so good to swing that hammer with wild abandon. Or this past Monday when a friend and I went skiing. It felt great to have a distraction as I flew down the slopes. Or this upcoming weekend when we will fly to Ft. Worth to spend time farting, playing XBox and eating Tex-Mex with dear college friends who understand us completely. Or the Mexico trip my family will send us on at the end of February. Yep, my fam is sending Laura and I to Isla Mujeris while Sophia stays back and spends time with Long Island cousins. These distractions from the "holding pattern" are what the doctor ordered. And they are needed distractions.

However, it's these days when there is nothing distracting me that I find myself aching, hurting deep within. The past couple of days have been shit. Ira is so safe inside Laura. He kicks, twirls, bends, stretches. According to our sonos he likes his hands near his head as if in a meditative pose. It's what awaits him in this world that scares me to death. I cry uncontrolably at the thought of tubes strapped to our baby boy; at having to make hard life and death decisions; at not being able to hold him and comfort him upon Laura giving birth; at the possibility of him hurting. Yeah, the last couple of days have been shit.