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Not yet Mom but Home

This is posted not in admonition,
but in explanation (of silence) and
pursuit (of quiet, grateful presence now).

I hope to have just two children.

Now at the end of my second pregnancy, this means I have only a handful moments remaining in which my body houses another soul. It is a strange thing to feel those flutters of life in my belly, but a sweet and sacred one, too.

I am trying to savor every tiny stretch and jostle.

I want to be here, now, enjoying these irreplaceable moments from within the cocoon of my family. That is all I want right now.

My first instinct is to scream every time someone asks me, “Is the baby here yet?” My second, the truer and lasting one, is to cry.

I understand that these words are meant as “I am thinking of you and your baby, and I am so excited!”

But what they feel like is, “I want to fast forward you out of this fleeting, beautiful moment, which is not enough.”

I hesitate to look at my phone right now. I do look, hoping that its newest beep might mark a text or email from one of my sisters taking a moment to send love, but dreading that I will find the other kind of message.

I try to clear those others from my mind quickly, and do not reply to them. But it’s hard. Once they’re read, or skimmed, I am suddenly acutely aware of the steady tick of a timer counting down the increasingly fewer seconds remaining where I am Home. It is hard, and tiring, to shift myself away from that incessant, tiresome tick and back into just being now.

Now is where I want to be. Now, in this precious moment, where I move awkwardly and with difficulty but do so knowing it is because I am, amazingly, gloriously, Home.

I’m excited to meet my littlest one. So excited. But that–left to be only what it is–is a soft undercurrent against the roar of gratitude that, for this moment, the only one I can or want to live in, I am not yet Mom but Home.

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