Arrivals

Just a week ago today I was arriving in Amsterdam. It had been a lonely couple of days with my husband gone at the Hague for a conference. Then, Bee and I flew to meet him for the holiday weekend. It had been a long day, starting when Bee was dressed and ready to leave for the airport at 6 am. Unfortunately our flight wasn't until 2 pm so we spent the morning haggling over when it would be time to leave. Anticipating having my hands full with my daughter and her massively large car seat, I packed very light--one carry on suitcase and one backpack for the two of us.

It was finally time to leave around 10 am and one of our usual taxi drivers came to take us to the airport. We waited for the plane, endured the long flight (yes, I bribed Bee to use the airplane bathroom), and made our way through Schipol airport to the baggage claim. Through the glass I spotted my husband waiting for us. We piled everything on a cart and Bee and I hurried out to greet the main man in our lives. Bee was so excited to see her father that she broke into a run, toddler arms and legs flying out in all directions, and hurled herself into his arms with a serious impact. All the grandmothers lined up waiting cooed simultaneously. It was like something out of a movie.

As if arriving in the Netherlands and being reunited with my husband wasn't sweet enough. The three of us went and had vanilla milkshakes and french fries (the way they come in Europe is stuffed in a paper cone and smothered your topping of choice, mine, mayonnaise). We devoured our snack together, each of us savoring good food and having our family back in one place.

I love arriving; I hate leaving. I am always waiting for my next beginning. I would do well to be less impatient, but despite my best efforts, I am always dreaming of going somewhere. Right now I am focused on my upcoming trip back to the United States so I can deliver my baby girl. Three more weeks of work. Three more weekends. Bee's birthday is next Sunday. The following week my sister comes to visit and we have Bee's birthday party. Then just one weekend remains to pack my suitcases, clean out my desk at work, and fly home to America.

Since the intervening weeks promise to be beyond stressful, I am concentrating on arriving home in Virginia. Let's just skip the rest already. In my mind's eye, I can see the international arrivals hall in Dulles. The weary immigration officers. The crowded baggage claim terminal. Customs. A short walk to the exit where my family will be waiting for me. Bee clutching my hand. Both of us trembling with excitement and jet lag. Home.

Leaving my husband behind will be the hardest part of next month. Bee and I will be home, with our family and favorite restaurants and a new house and a very soon to arrive baby. However, I know that as soon as I arrive home I will be counting down the days until my husband arrives and then (and hopefully this time it will be in this order) the very special arrival of a very much wished for little baby girl.