Hard to believe, and yet of course I knew (or at least hoped) that I would eventually get here. I knew that, God willing, everything would progress, my belly would grow, and this being inside me would grow into a tiny person. But even though I’ve been pregnant now for the better part of the last year, I still find myself surprised sometimes that there’s going to be another person living in our house!
My husband and I belong to a local Methodist church and we celebrate the season of Advent every year: counting down the Sundays between Thanksgiving and Christmas. There were moments when I thought about Mary, the mother of Jesus, in a different way this season. I thought about her making journeys on her donkey, heavily pregnant, not knowing exactly what to expect. I thought that she probably experienced some of the same physical discomforts I am (did she have heartburn that made her feel like she might burst into flame at any moment? Did the baby Jesus wedge up under her ribs and make it difficult to breathe sometimes?), while knowing inside what an amazing gift she carried for all mankind.
The holidays felt different this year. Both of our families live close by and there were numerous family events, and though there were moments when I was tired, I found myself eager to soak up the last few family moments just as a couple, with our families. That dynamic, I know, will never be quite the same again, and I wanted to embrace every second. And this Christmas day my husband and I awoke and exchanged Christmas stockings for the last time, just the two of us, excited that next year we will have an almost-one-year-old to share this time with.
So here we are, in the New Year, still waiting. The excitement is building, as well as the nerves, and we don’t know whether we will be waiting a few more weeks or a few more days. We do know that at this point, our son could arrive any day now, and every day that we get closer to January 16, we smile to ourselves, knowing we are one day closer to meeting him.