I’d been waiting and waiting and waiting, mostly lying on the couch or asleep in bed, for the nesting instinct to kick back in. We had the shambolic Alabama Street slum nicely ship-shape when Miss Claire made her appearance, so I knew it could be done.

Just now Jeremy and I cleared out the closet and the big blue chest of drawers, prepared three bags of clothes for Community Thrift, dusted off Claire’s baby clothes and discussed where to put any new furniture that might be required at some unspecified future date.

After years of reading infertility blogs while two of my closest friends struggled to conceive, I’m sticking to the Jewish approach of not taking anything for granted until I am presented with a live healthy daughter. Still, one of those friends now has a bouncy four-month old boy, and the other is expecting a son three weeks before Julia’s proposed birthday.

So it’s possible this thing might be about to happen after all.

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