Patience is a virtue they say. I seem to be singularly lacking in that particular one these days. Ever since I was told that they are ready, I have been so anxious to hold my precious babies in my arms.

Early this month I had a strong impression of Halloween as the birthdate. I have been trying to speed things up to no avail. Let me tell you two days of walking for hours just made me tired. I have been trying to convince my babies that if they started labor now, they would be born the wee hours of Halloween morn. Sigh.

I guess a part of me worries that I won't go into labor. Yes, I know everyone does, but everyone does not deal with continuing superfetation. I am pregnant with twenty-four babies of different ages. The boys that I thought had lost implanted the other day. I guess they are still here. The time between conception and implantation is an iffy time for good connection. I get tired just thinking about it. No matter how tired I get I am still anxious to meet them, to hold and caress them.

Last night I started for bed and saw the cosleeper we have built for them. It had its new mattress that I just sewed, blankets spread peacefully next to my spot on the bed where I can nurse them quickly in the night. For a split second, I panicked, thinking, "Where are my babies?" I laughed at myself realizing that they were close enough to me that I should have no worries on that score. I went for a minor thing, returned to my room, saw their bed and thought, "Where are my babies?"

It just seemed as if they were missing. I knew they should be there. My heart is waiting for them.