Right now I'm sitting, soaking in the silence. It's the end of a gorgeous sixty-five-and-sunny-day. The windows are open and delicious, fresh, green smells of pine and grass and damp earth are drifting through the air. The kitties have all come back in after a day spent romping in the sunshine and are sprawled, exhausted and content, across the floor. The house seems full of expectant stillness- like even these old floors and walls anticipate the big changes coming any moment.
A few days ago I was feeling no hurry. Mounting anticipation, yes, but no real longing for things to hurry-up-and-happen. But now, I'm longing. Now I am secretly willing things to move. I want to hasten the pace of things. I'm so ready to meet our little girl, ready to kiss her tiny cheeks and squish her tender toes. We took a walk at lunchtime. I suppose I hoped it might set something in motion inside me. Instead, it seems all I accomplished was to lull the tiny girl in my belly down into deep sleep. She's been much calmer than usual ever since.
Which is, itself, a small mercy. Growing bigger and running out of extra space hasn't in any way stopped or slowed her constant motion. I still spend most of each day (and night!) with a belly that rolls like a restless sea. She is strong and dauntless, and full of enthusiastic energy, it seems. And maybe almost ready to meet the world?
I told her today would be a perfect day to be born.
Love this post and love all 3 of you! She will be here before you know it. Just keep drinking it all in and relax...
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