It’s such a strange time to be pregnant.
That fact has never been more obvious then as she stands in the waiting room alone for her first, quarantined, prenatal appointment.
This is a time when the mom-to-be should be preparing the nursery and spending way too much time shopping for baby’s perfect take home outfit. Instead, she shifts her focus to purchasing diapers and wipes online—worried there may not be enough to go around.
Typically, it’s a time when she is anticipating a baby shower with all of her loved ones to celebrate. Now, she must distance from those dear friends and family to protect her unborn child as well as herself.
It’s a time when she might have been planning her final hair and nail appointments or ordering a pretty new robe for all those adorable post-delivery pictures. Instead, she is consumed with the unknown. She feels desperate to know and plan for what may come once her sweet babe is here.
She knows there will likely be no visitors—at the hospital or at home.
She thinks of her husband, her partner, her strength and wonders—will he be allowed to see his son come into this world? Or, will she and baby spend the first night or two alone?
She worries about the virus. Is her immune system strong enough? Would she be considered priority? Is it selfish to wonder? What will the hospital be like come June?
She wrestles with these thoughts and questions multiple times a day.
I am her.
I grapple with these fears and others. Every. Single. Day. I have spent countless hours playing the why game with myself and God. I don’t like it. I’m not proud of it. But each time I find myself at a low—I hear this: “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear.”
This isn’t my first rodeo. I know the other side. I remember the baby showers, the shopping sprees and the constant flow of visitors. I know the joy of celebrating without the weight of the world resting on my shoulders.
This experience is so different. And if I could change it I would in a heartbeat. Yet, when I look at my other two babies, I know one thing will be the same.
It will rush in and sweep me off my feet. One look at my tiny son and I will fall truly, madly, and deeply. There is no fear that will stop me from protecting, providing and nurturing him—no matter the circumstances.
So now, while he’s growing safely inside of me I will try and make the choice to be fearless. I will work to choose my faith first—even when it seems unnatural to do so. I will embrace this as a part of our story and I will keep my chin up. My joy up. And my eyes up.
Because in these uncertain times there is something I do know for sure . . .
I love you, Baby M.