How I have dreamed and longed for this day. This day when I could rub my ever-expanding belly and imagine you soon in my arms. Your Mama is crying, Little One. Crying because of God’s goodness. Crying because of the miracle of you. Crying because my pregnant hormones have very few other options.
You were up before 5 a.m. today, and so was I. Imagining our middle-of-the-night feedings. Imagining rocking you in the dark and soothing away your tears. Smiling in bed, as you hiccuped, your Daddy tried to sleep, and I lay their thinking…imagining…YOU.
The way your little lips will pucker and suck.
The way your tiny fingers will grasp and stroke and wrap themselves around mine.
We have birth ahead of us, Abby. But, we can do it. We are fighters. Strong women. Women with a heritage of strength and beauty and…stubbornness. I probably should have listed that last characteristic first, but oh well. Perhaps you will have a bit of the peace and calm of your Daddy? Ah, if we could be so lucky. But, when I picture you, I picture a little girl with enough tenacity for someone twice her size. Enough determination for birth and beyond. Enough spunk to over and over again beat the odds and make people shake their heads in amazement.
You will change the world. Change for the world for Christ. Change for the world for joy. You’ve already changed mine. You’ve toppled all of my preconceived notions about motherhood and engulfed me in overpowering, encompassing love. Love that can barely imagine you separated from my body. But, let’s be honest, you don’t have much more room. My stomach is squished somewhere over on the far left, and you prefer to hang out and push your little self into the ribs on my right. It’s time. Time to meet the world. Time to embrace the love letter that our Father God has been writing for you from the beginning of time.
“Don’t be afraid,” your Father God whispers, “for I AM with you. Do not be dismayed for I will never leave you nor forsake you.”
Hold onto that promise in the days, weeks, and years to come. You are not entering our lives during a time of ease and calm. It’s rather a whirlwind out here much of the time. I’m teaching full-time, and your Daddy is dedicating himself to his studies. Most days dinner is eaten in the relative relaxation of a TV show and bed before we separate for the evening to accomplish more of our to-do list. Believe it or not, we are actually moving this week as well. I know…crazy, right? My midwife made me agree that I would rest more and elevate my feet above my head at least three times a day to ease the swelling. When I assented, I may have left out the part about moving furniture, clothes, and bathroom toiletries down several flights of stairs for days on end in addition to scrubbing bathrooms, bedrooms, and living areas clean of dry wall dust and general dirt and grime. Squatting and scrubbing is good for me anyway, right? Preparation for labor? Still, I decided NOT to tell my midwife the full story of the past several weeks and the one that is coming. When much of my “life” is stacked against the living room wall in preparation for a move, there is no way that I’m just going to take it easy. Not yet, anyway. You and I will have plenty of time to snuggle and lounge in the weeks ahead.
You, rest, though. Continue to grow and develop. Make yourself comfortable deep down in my body and enjoy what is to come. Breathe with me through contractions and let your heart regulate itself to the rhythm of what is at hand. Hold on and hang tight. In nine days, you will be in my arms.
I love you, Abigail.