When a mom waits for a baby…
She feels every kick, every flutter, wondering who is in there.
She stops by the nursery, laundry basket in hand, and can’t believe she’s going to do it all again.
She struggles to get down on the floor with her big kids, feeling foreign in her own body.
She prays for bedtime at the end of each long day, then feels guilty about all the things she couldn’t do with them.
She watches her older children run, play, and thrive… praying that her body is making another healthy miracle.
She huffs and puffs around the house, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror and thinks this is it.
She sits on the couch as her family buzzes around her feeling torn between I’ll miss this and I’m never doing this again.
She worries. About everything. She worries about her kids operating without her for a few days, because moms don’t hand over the reigns without an internal mental struggle.
She watches her husband pick up the slack, feeling helpless, yet endlessly thankful he helped her build this beautiful family.
She doesn’t sleep. Her mind races at night, envisioning her new balance and forming a plan to remember newborn life, successfully breastfeed, get her her body back, jump back in with her big kids, relight the flame in her marriage, start cooking healthy again, and just generally take over the world.
She waits. The minutes pass slowly. But she knows in a matter of days she’ll look back at this week and realize how fleeting it was. The shape of her family will change forever, and a whole new set of adventures will come her way.