It was with both anticipated jubilation and a touch of reservation that I folded hospital tucks to the sateen duvet cover and carefully place the elegant lace nightie on my pillow after first giving it a quick peck for luck. It was an apology to the soft silken garment for using it to create my image all the while knowing, I have little intension of spending much of the night wearing it.

I have been preoccupied all day cleaning, preparing for the meal and selecting wine. My teenage daughter even troubled to change the light bulbs to what she cheekily labeled soft light to show me at my best, before taking over the kitchen duties and dispatching me to the bathroom to clean up and dress for the evening. I’m not sure who is more excited; I’m not even sure which one of us is the teenager. My heart is a flutter with images and expectation that belong in a younger mind. It’s been so long since I gave myself time to feel my heart. He is a good man and I have all the expectation this will workout well.

As I emerge from my room, I see my daughter’s face light up, skipping forward both arms outstretched she takes my hands saying, “Let me look at you,” and after a pause “Twirl for me,” before offering, “Oh Mother!”

Without anything further to say she picks up her school pack and rushes toward the door saying, “The soup is on simmer. Now remember I’ll be at Jessie’s all night so….” She stops and rushes back to my side carrying a smile I’ve not before seen. She quietly whispers to my ear, “I hope you are going to be sensible and take precautions. We don’t want any surprises in nine months, yet, do we.” Then quickly makes for the door and disappears not choosing to chance another glance at the expression on my face.