in on the
w n s of the w i n d. Whoosh. Rustle. Whirrrrrr.
I wish I knew the exact moment you arrived. That spark. But you were a surprise, a miracle–and somehow I sense that nothing about you is going to be predictable or precise.
My belly trembles and shudders.
You are all I can think about.
I worry whether or not you are okay, if I am keeping you safe enough.
With every kick I feel, I get closer to meeting you. But patience is not my forte.
You are proof that magic exists. You make my heart hurt with happiness.
Now please remind me of this after your arrival when I am sleepless, sore, and scratching my eyeballs out with a wretched case of PPD.
Point me back to this post when Abby and Izzy are fighting, you are wailing away, my husband is working out, my nipples are bleeding and I have nothing planned for dinner.
Kindly pour me a gigantic glass of mommy juice, give me a hug, and tell me it will all be better in 18 years. Or so.