I’m so used to these little flutters. I’m never alone. I feel whole and good.
I love being pregnant. I love the idea of it, I love the responsibility. I love that feeling of life and being able to share my own heart beat to keep someone else alive.
Now this is not my first baby, but there’s this wonder of human minds where I can’t quite recall specific things. Like after he’s out and my little love sits before me suckling, continuing to survive from the wellspring that is my body. There, in that moment, will I feel lonely? When he’s no longer within me but in my arms, the world at his finger tips, will I miss those flutters? Will I miss wondering if he has a tummy ache when I do? Will I miss knowing how safe he is within me?
It occurs to me that I may have had this same exact feeling or thought before, but the details elude me. I don’t remember if that bitter sweet moment made me swell with tears or not. Change is not something I’ve ever been able to embrace without fully mourning the passing of something else. So too with this, I think there could be that moment. There could be a sadness in the joy.
I do know though, that every single time I feel excitement and eagerness to meet this handsome boy or wonder how soft his skin will be or if he will love to snuggle and nurse with mouth wide open or if he’ll show his very decisive nature through his vocal alerts into the wee hours of the night, every single time when I think “I just can hardly wait to meet you my prince!” that moment is quickly followed by a gasp and a realization that I will then no longer be pregnant! This, like every phase of my life, has been thoughtfully prepared and appreciated to its greatest because every moment in life deserves that much respect. Every day has some good in it. Every season has its uniqueness that is only going to be so for that season. My optimism, my drive in this life is harnessed and nurtured and grown. My love for this phase does not mean that it is painless. It does not mean that every moment is perfect. What it does mean is that every moment is appreciated.
For example, right now: I have killer heart burn. There’s something that feels hot and burning slowly creeping up my throat like liquid soaking up a napkin. It’s not enjoyable. You know what is though? There’s a tiny human inside me! There’s a precious little gem, someone with their own dreams and goals, talents and love laying cozy within my womb. Maybe that sweet being is laying on parts of me pushing things causing this “discomfort”….. or …..maybe the relaxin hormone my body is readily providing in preparation for that special moment when my body literally opens joints to allow safe passage to this sweet soul to join us out here on the outside. Maybe that magical hormone on its own, it’s doing its job making those little secure doorways keeping all of the stomach things in their home loosey-goosey so they can slip out the wrong direction. Now who can complain about that?? Yes that darned hormone that’s going to change the most supportive bone in my body into wet spaghetti so that baby can come out safe and sound – it’s giving me a slight burning sensation in my throat. It’s just a perspective moment. It’s a scraped knee in the middle of 10 mile ruck march. It’s a tiny thing when you look at this amazing process we have been blessed to harness and be a part of.
I wish more people took the time to appreciate all the amazing things they get to do in their moments. Appreciating something so much that it’s absence actually brings tears.
But then again if everyone did that… there’d be nothing left to complain about. Now we can’t have that…or can we??
I will miss having my baby inside my body. I will appreciate having him outside my body. I will appreciate every moment. I will take every thought captive and see God’s love in each and every single moment I can, with His grace.