I often think about how Alice made us- Daddy and me- parents, and how now you will make Alice a sister. You're doing it already and Alice seems to be embracing the whole transition as well as I could have hoped: hugging and patting my belly, placing kisses meant for you gently on my skin. She is good, little one. So very good. I know there will be conflict and arguments (battles even!) between you, but I am also in sweet anticipation of your relationship. You are a gift for our entire family, but perhaps most dearly for Alice. I hope that you will be life-long, bosom friends. Someday I will read Anne of Green Gables aloud to you both and you'll know just what I mean.
It is suddenly February and we can possibly say that we will meet you next month. Possibly. We can't know for sure, but in just seven more weeks you will have reached "full term" and gained the green light to come whenever you're ready. Seven weeks. Next month. Of course, you could also go the way of your sister and venture well past "full term" and into the realm of "beyond due." Oh baby, come when you may, we will be ready and yet never quite ready. Today? Next month? Next year? If there is one thing of which I'm certain, it is that I am not in control. You can thank Alice for teaching me that.
Next week we'll observe Ash Wednesday and start our Lenten journey towards Easter. Oddly enough, though your sister was due and born a month later in the calendar than you will be, you both hit "full term" on Easter. This means that for both of you, I had/have Lent as the final stretch before your arrival. Coincidence? I hardly think so. I am desperate to be my best self- the best version of myself I can muster- for you. For you and Alice both. I remember Lent two years ago so vividly, the challenges and immense gifts it contained. Here we are again and I am preparing my heart for next Wednesday with you in mind. How can I embrace Lent, 2016 for this baby? What challenges and gifts are in store? No answers yet, little one.
Thankfully, your single task for Lent is to stay put and grow-grow-grow. My heart skips a beat at the thought of your tiny self, your warm breath, your every precious feature. Next month? Or the following? Either way, we cannot wait to meet you.
Love, mom
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