Hello, Little One. This is your mother, writing to you for the very first time—which seems fitting since I saw you for the very first time today. You were just a tiny speck on the ultrasound screen, a little seahorse-shaped bean, but I could see your heart beating wildly (144 beats per minute!), and it made my heart beat a little faster as well. You are real. You are really on your way.
Your dad was beside me, wrestling with your big brother Noah who was, of course, being a pill in a moment that I had imagined would be still and spiritual. I think Noah’s squawks must have drown out the heavenly choirs that were singing, but it didn’t matter—when I turned to look at your dad, he was grinning from ear to ear watching that little heartbeat on the screen, and that was sacred enough for me. I love him, and I love that you are a piece of him.
After that fleeting magical moment, I mostly just felt nauseated and a little overwhelmed as I lay there on the exam table. Pregnancy and motherhood consist of a lot of feelings, many of which are not romantic and blissful—but I do feel like it’s important to capture the moments that are perfect. As a friend once told me, the magical moments may not outnumber the hard or mundane moments, but they definitely outweigh them.
For example, I vividly remember the moment that I started wishing for you—well, I’ve always wished for you, but I remember clearly the moment that the possibility and dream of you first became real. I hadn’t felt ready to even consider another baby for over a year after your brother was born. Adjusting to motherhood had been difficult and disorienting for me, but one day when Noah was about 16 months old, we were playing in the bathtub, and as he squealed, splashed, and splattered bubbles on me, I felt overwhelming joy and thought, “I hope I get to do this again.” I was surprised to realize that, quite suddenly, the thought of another baby joining our family brought excitement instead of fear. I knew then that it wouldn’t be an easy road to get you here, and it hasn’t been—but I also knew that I would do whatever it took to make it happen.
Now that you’re on your way, I feel so many things. I feel excited to pick out a special name for you, to have a baby bump and to feel you kick inside of me, to experience labor and bringing you into the world, to rock you and snuggle you, to watch you learn and grow and develop personality and spunk, like your brother.
But I also feel scared sometimes—mostly that I am not up for the challenge of two children. I often feel like I can barely manage my life as it is, with one child. After over two years, I still haven’t “mastered” being a stay-at-home mom. Some women are naturally so good at this—at getting up and getting going for the day, planning fun outings and activities for the kids, enjoying every moment (okay, probably just most moments) with their little ones while managing their homes with ease. Me, not so much. I’m going to be honest and say that most days, I am still in pajama pants, unshowered, at 3:00 p.m., and we are lucky if dinner gets on the table and the dishes get done each day. This has been especially true lately with fertility treatments and now pregnancy exhaustion, hormone-related blues, and of course, the ever-present nausea.
But what I need to remember is that I’m a good mom. I might not be a good homemaker, but I’m a good mom. I love Noah fiercely, and I love reading to him and teaching him. I know that I have enough love to give to another child, even if it sometimes feels like I don’t have enough time management (or organization or motivation or whatever it is!).
I can’t wait to welcome you to our family. I can’t wait to see how you fit and what you bring to us. Right now, you are just our little bean, but before we know it, you will be here, fresh from heaven and ready to start teaching us.
I can’t wait to hold you and to look into your eyes for the first time. But for now, I will treasure the memory of that little beating heart—and the way that it filled and settled into mine.
I love you so much already, my little miracle baby.
Keep growing. We will keep praying. And we will see you again soon.
Your Pregnant Mama