My little caboose,
I’ve just finished staring at the two pink lines. It’s not the first time. In fact, I’ve done this twice before, and each time, I am filled with the same disbelief, gratitude, and pure joy.
But something is a little different this time.
Unless God has different plans for us, this may be the last time I see those pink lines.
And that realization makes me want to hold onto all of the last firsts we will experience together with all my might.
The two pink lines.
The first time we hear your precious heartbeat.
Even the morning sickness. (OK, maybe not the morning sickness.)
Feeling your first little flutters.
Watching you nudge and roll just beneath my skin.
The excitement we will feel in those final weeks awaiting your arrival.
The miracle of labor and delivery.
The first time your skin touches my chest with the same temperature as mine because moments before we were one.
When my eyes finally get to see all the little features that have been forming inside me for the last nine months.
Watching your daddy fall in love all over again.
Seeing your big brother and sister take on their new roles.
The rollercoaster of breastfeeding.
I even want to soak up those first few days of postpartum—the squishy belly, granny panties, leaking boobs, the empowerment that comes with birthing a whole human.
And every milestone that will come our way.
I want to slow down this time. If there’s one thing motherhood has taught me, it’s that time passes painfully fast.
So my sweet caboose, I pray God helps me to slow down and to savor this time we’ve been blessed with.
To loosen the reigns on the house. And the schedules. And losing the weight.
And instead, spend time soaking up your fleeting littleness—the miracle of you.