This baby I’m growing inside of me still has 6+ weeks to go, and I feel like he’s running out of room. Every move he’s made today has been painful. And as we started closing in on my toddler’s bedtime, I wondered how many more times my tired body could bend over and pick her up tonight.
I picked her up one last time and carried her to her room where we began our bedtime routine. Every night, I stand next to her crib holding her on the front of my body, her head resting on my shoulder. I sway from side to side, sing Jesus Loves Me, and pray over her. But tonight…I didn’t have it in me. The weight of her ever-growing body was too much for my ever-growing belly to hold. I started to put her down in her crib, and she cried. She knew I was breaking routine. She wasn’t ready yet. What she didn’t know is how much her mama was hurting.
I pulled her back close to me and fought through the pain. To be honest, I didn’t want to hold her anymore. It was killing my stomach to hold her there. But she needed me. But me? I was uncomfortable and exhausted and just wanted to take off my Mama hat for the night.
And that’s when it hit me. Just like it does every single time. Like a ton of bricks being thrown at my gut, my mind is flooded with your faces, your words, and even your silence. There’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you for a long time, and I just haven’t known how to say it. But here is my best attempt at what my heart wants to say to your heart. You.
To the Woman who is waiting,
Every time I catch myself wanting to complain about motherhood, I think of you. I really do. Maybe it’s because you are my sister, and it hits close to home. Maybe it’s because ever since I got married and the idea of motherhood became more real to me, I started seeing you everywhere. Maybe it’s because ever since I had a baby of my own, I can’t imagine how you must feel waiting so eagerly to experience it for yourself. Or maybe it’s because you are some of my closest friends and I can practically hear your pain through your silence.
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