In the silence of the morning, before anyone else is awake, it’s just you and me.
Your gentle kicks wake me up.
I feel you.
I poke back, initiating connection with you. We go back and forth, you and I, sometimes for an hour before anyone else is awake.
It’s our little secret, these sacred moments of the morning.
These sacred moments that can only be shared between a mama and her child.
And I savor these moments.
These moments when you’re so close to me.
These last moments of being able to hold you on the inside.
When you’re tucked so closely under my heart.
When I feel your every movement.
These little kicks I get to feel . . . every turn of your body, every poke of your finger . . . they are sacred.
Intimate touches only a mama knows.
So before you enter the world, before you’re born; before everyone else wants to hold you and know you.
I’ll cherish these sacred moments of being your mother.
When it’s just you and me, getting to know one another.
Because God gave mamas a special gift: a gift of knowing our babies long before anyone else.
The gentle kicks.
Waking me up in the middle of the night.
The jumps when you react to a new voice.
Your response to the vacuum being turned on.
Your reaction to music.
Your response to touch.
Your unique movement routines.
I’ll cherish this sacred gift of being your mama.
Holding your body in my womb.
I’ll cherish this gift of knowing you . . .
Before the world knows how special you are, too.
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