What Life Looks Like

I am spending my last weeks writing. Combing through pages, scraps, post-its, binders and journals that make up my book. The one I have been working on for 1.5 years. 

Soon everything will change. Irreversibly. Forever. We will welcome our child into this world with trembling arms. We will mess up. Drop him/her. Give her/him all the love we’ve got. 

I stare at my growing body and marvel. I walk across the street to Save-On-Foods for the free air conditioning and walk home smiling. 

I am trying to relish every moment with Michael because I am all too aware of the fact that our relationship will never be the same again. It will never be ‘just us’ again and I love us. Yes, we are gaining the most incredible gift in the world but I am also experiencing a real sense of loss. I will never be woman — independent and fierce — again. And yet I will be more. I will be mother. 

These days feel surreal. I am slow-moving, yet I am accomplishing much. A baby is nearly ready to be born — inside my body — baking, daily. I am preparing my heart, my mind and our home to welcome our child. Michael and I are freezing fresh berries, preparing meals, and today (against better judgement) I baked dozens of oatmeal chocolate chunk cookies and loaves of banana bread, for the days when we can barely keep our eyes open. We’ve bought our stroller, folded the onesies, checked off the labour list, and now — for a few more weeks — we wait. 

My mom came over the other night. I asked her about her labours. All but one of her children (the last) came 5-10 days early. So we may be meeting our son/daughter sooner than we think. 

These are amazing — real, emotional, overwhelming, exciting, full — days.

Thank you for sharing them with me, friends.