Three years ago tonight, at just about his time, I was getting ready for bed, when I felt a POP. And, not too much later, my 6th baby was born. But that's a post for tomorrow... Tonight, I simply remember.
I remember the waiting, the anticipation. How the passage of time alternated between where-did-nine-months-go and I'm-not-quite-ready-there's-still so-much-to-do. I remember the heavy, ripe feeling of physically being great with child, and the amazement of having done this a sixth time. I remember the impatience of everyone else to get on with having the baby (we've got a holiday to plan, after all), and my own willingness (stubbornness?) to be still and wait. And wait. Four days after time was up I waited, patiently. And I remember the hopes and dreams... The wonder, the joy, and the trepidation. And the awe.
On the eve of my daughter's third birthday, I remember the gift - the most precious gift I have ever been given. The gift of becoming someone's mother. ♥