This month, I’m going to be a mama.
The mama of this sweet, incredible little light that’s already infused with equal parts grammar and glitter, car parts and curse words.
We get to be there the moment he sees the world for the very first time.
For when he takes his first big, deep breath.
For when he meets all the beautiful voices that have surrounded him since the moment the stars knit him together.
This month, he’s going to be loved up, loved on and copiously snuggled by all the bright lights on this side who absolutely can’t wait to meet him & welcome him into the world.
He’s going to listen to his very first Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin.
He’s going to see his pizza.
maybe even this weekend—
we’ll be unrolling little onesies & wee socks & striped footie jammies to get him dressed for tiny adventures and epic snacktimes and midday dreamings.
We’ll have to figure out where all the velcro goes on his swaddles.
And how he goes into his swaddles.
And whether he even likes swaddles.
Or if he even likes being dressed, at all, ever, for that matter.
We’ll finally get to trace every beautiful curve of his tiny cheeks and precious little head and get to see whose features he borrowed.
Maybe he’ll be a tiny baby ginger like his daddy;
maybe he’ll have his mama’s pointy-tufted, tow-headed strands.
Maybe he’ll get daddy’s gorgeous jawline, and his mama’s giant scoops of baby cheeks.
Definitely he’ll be the greatest, most miraculous and beautiful thing we’ve ever seen in our entire lives, and then we’ll get to take him home to try all his little hats on him.
One of the wisest spirits I know gave me the most brilliant and beautiful advice recently:
“Enjoy the sunset of your pregnancy and, soon, a bright new birth.”
Here’s to fully celebrating the two skies we’re standing under right now—
the stunning sunset of one chapter ending, and the sparkling brand-new of what’s on its way.