Week 34. Harry Beau, you and I have been through the riggers these last few weeks. As my body helps you to grow bigger and stronger, it is also starting to crumble under the weight of the hormones that are feeding that growth. You are so active, and it’s so reassuring. You are presenting as the picture of a happy baby. All of these things are music to an anxious mama’s heart. I’m so glad to feel you and get to know your patterns and tendencies; too bad I can’t tell if it’s feet or elbows or hands or knees.
I got a cold back in January. Nothing serious, just a silly common cold. But I started coughing. And then more coughing. And still more coughing. And as the rest of the cold symptoms subsided, the cough lingered. As if pregnant mamas don’t have enough pressure in there abdomen and pelvis, this cough was making both you and me crazy. Abdominal muscles, or what’s left of them after 3 babies, were on fire and you were starting to protest the constant interruptions to your daily sleep/move routines. Well, over time, the coughing injured my ribs. And now, its cracked them. You and I have been stuck in bed for the last week, hoping and praying that this rib(s) will heal and delivery won’t be affected. I know those hours of contractions and the monitoring are going to be a big trigger for my heart. My brain will know that each contraction is one step closer to holding and snuggling you, but my heart will be dragged back to those moments of sorrow with your big brother - where I knew that every contraction meant your daddy and I were one step closer to handing him over to Jesus. I don’t really know what emotions will swell during your birth. I can prepare myself to feel all the hard things and I can walk through so many what if situations, but the reality is that you and your birth are going to be unique to you; and that’s not something I can really be ready for. It’s why I want this rib to heal. It’s why I wish I knew what day you were planning to arrive. For this anxious mind, the less unknowns the better. And yet, here we are. 6 weeks from your due date. Working to heal a broken rib. Stretching and rocking on a yoga ball to ease the pressure in my pelvis. Slathering every inch of my body with lotions and creams as they stretch to accommodate your growing little body. Drinking so much water that I think I’m spending more time walking to and from the bathroom than doing anything else. Praying for a healthy and easy delivery and for Gods providence to be felt by everyone in that delivery room.
You, my son, are going to be the very first baby in our family that doesn’t come into this world in a storm cloud of grief. That’s doesn’t mean there won’t be lots of heavy emotions as we miss your brother welcoming you into this world, it just means that your birth isn’t also intertwined with death. I can’t tell you how excited that makes me. To welcome you without the complicated emotions of good bye. But to simply say “hello my darling, welcome to the world. We are so filled with joy that God gave us you”
One day when you’re older, your daddy and I, and your big sister, will tell you all about your Grammy and how big she loved. We will tell you about your brother, and all the ways he has shaped who we are today. We will share all the stories and pictures. We will laugh and cry. You will know the people that came and went before you, and it makes me equally joyful and sorrowful to know that. But for now, I just can’t wait to give you all the kisses. Soak in all the snuggles, and commit to memory our many midnight chats and chest naps. There will be plenty of time for the tears that will come as we miss your brother and your Grammy in new ways, but the most anticipated emotions are those of bringing you home.
So keep on growing in there (but not too big, ok?) and I will continue to work towards and pray for healing of this rib. And pray for your health and for God to protect us all on the day you choose to make your entrance. Because your big sister can not wait to hold you and snuggle you! Your daddy and I are pretty excited too. 😘