...coming to a slow close. I am waking up with the resolve not to just wait, but to live and to enjoy what is left of this season. This season of resting in the ever-presence of an unborn, but beautifully and uniquely created baby inside of me. Not wishing her before her time, but trusting in the One Who holds the whole measure of time in His hand. Beginning and end. Beginning and end. Looking at a man who I have loved more and more everyday for the last seven years and hardly fathoming that in a matter of days or even weeks, there will awaken in him a capacity I never knew before. I will love him then, even more. I still move forward with some trepidation, but less. I see the women who have borne the same glorious wonder these last nine-and-some-change months rejoice as their little ones enter the world and find myself caught in the wake of both envy and joy. She will come in His time, I say to myself, again and again. And if I have ever known Him to be anything, it is timely. So I can trust in that. And I can enjoy the wait. Because it is not just waiting, it is living and seeing and breathing and being thankful for the 279 days, as of today, or the 280 tomorrow, or as many after that she continues to grow... that my body has been a haven for life. A life I will hold, very soon, in my open and waiting arms.
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