I’ll admit, I don’t connect well with my pregnancies. At least I don’t feel like I do.
I think about my baby often; I try a lot to connect. But it’s a struggle for sure. It takes being calm and mindful and those are qualities I lack in many areas of my life. I’m not calm; I’m busy. And mindful? That’s a constant task for me. I’m task-oriented so my attempts at mindfulness are usually overwrought with, well, tasks. I hear mamas talk about how they “know” their babies so well in utero and I just don’t. If anything, the farther I progress in my pregnancy, the more mysterious it all seems. I feel the bumps, experience the discomfort, see all the changes my body is going through as my baby grows, but I just can’t imagine what he will be like. Will he be serene? Boisterous? A solo sleeper or a Velcro baby? Will he arrive quicker than his brother or pace himself like his sister? Will he have hazel eyes like Dominic and Max or blue like Jemma and I? I imagine him with a head full of dark hair, but that’s more my heartburn battles talking than anything else. Will he be daring? Contemplative? Serious? Funny? I can’t grasp his personality and it makes me sad because I want to know him so much.
I want to know him because I believe he is amazing. I know he is amazing! Full of potential and wonder and God-given abilities that will blow me away.
Being pregnant a third time already has me aching for this sweet one and how he will fit into our family. I’ve been so busy, almost in survival mode with mothering Jemma and Max, working, and managing life. The last few nights I’ve made it a point to take a bath, no matter how late it is (last night it was 11:45pm when I dipped in!), to talk to this little guy. He bumps around while I close my eyes and whisper to him. So desperately I want him to know my voice and feel the love that pulses from my heart. It’s more than words can express and explains why moms cry so easily and often. Our tears are the words that don’t exist in any language. Tears embody the beauty, pain, wonder, excitement; all the wildness that is being a mom to the precious children we are blessed with.
Until I meet you sweet boy, I’ll keep asking “Who are you?” And for your response, I promise I’ll listen close and cherish all the days to come as you teach me about yourself. I love you with all that I am and can’t wait for the day our eyes meet.