My son, these are your last few days on the inside.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I’ve been praying away the hours, hoping that every cramp and contraction signalled that you were about to make your grand entrance.  I’ve been wishing away the days, trying to speed things up.  I’ve Googled too much.  I’ve complained too much.  Every morning I wake up, shocked that I am still pregnant.  Today marks 40 weeks.  40 weeks that you have been in my belly, 40 weeks that I have allowed myself to dream of you.  I’ve wanted you for so long, and cried for you for many more than 40 weeks before you finally found your way to us.

May 12th.  My actual due date.  When your brother’s due date finally arrived, he was already here.  Safely in our arms.  We never had to wonder.  I never had to eat a cheeseburger with pineapple and spicy teriyaki sauce, an order of onion rings, a root beer, and a late night snack of strawberry shortcake.  But tonight I did.

This is a whole new world for me.  And I’m a little afraid.

Then something shifted today.  I turned the music up loud while I did the dishes.  I forced myself to participate in life.  I promised Max that we would go out for dinner as a family.  I hauled my enormous self out to the pool and put my feet in, as Sean and Max floated by in their new raft.  And I realized….

You will be here when you’re ready.

Write your own story.

Your beginning is yours.  You decide your birthday.  You tell me when you’re ready to make your transition into this big, beautiful world.

Write your own story.

You get to introduce yourself to us.  You pave the way.  Show your own unique temperament.  Challenge us with everything that is different about you.  Distinguish yourself in a way that defines your name, your personality, your destiny.

Write your own story.

Will you be a reader?  An athlete?  An introvert?  A boy who likes to snuggle?  Will you dance when you hear music, or lose yourself in building elaborate cities with Legos?  Will you nap?  Will you run?  Will your laughter outweigh your tears?  Will you fit?  Will you struggle?  Will you push yourself to fly?  I don’t know you now, but I will spend every moment of my life learning you, starting today.

Write your own story.

I love you and your brother with every ounce of my soul.  My job is to guide you through the crazy that is life, the unexpected, the hard, the hard-won.  My sweet, independent boys.  My two sons, who I can only gently guide as you show the world who you are meant to be.  I will stand back and pray for grace, as you unveil who you are.

Write your own story.

Your elbow sculpts a castle from the inside of my belly.  I imagine that you are yawning and unfurling your strong legs, as the skin that’s stretched taut across my stomach accommodates you for the last few days.  I put my hand where your tiny back must be, and say a prayer for your safe arrival.  I am ready, but the words are not mine to write.  I will love you into this world.  I will laugh you into my arms.  I will wait, and hope, and dream, for as long as it takes.  Until you are ready.

Write your own story.


All pictures compliments of Lissymack Photography


5 Replies to “Write Your Own Story”

  1. I love this. Every birth is so different, just like each kid is. I have had 5 kiddos all full term, I swore I would never be happy to be nine months pregnant. That is until number 6 came ten weeks early, now I wish for every woman to be overdue. Enjoy those last few hours/days with the little guy being the baby. I hope you have an easy, uneventful delivery.

  2. So awesome. You are so strong, and your doula rocks too!

    I have to keep an eye on this. I will likely be deemed high risk, I’ll be around 35 at least having my first, and I’ve been told that I have “dangerously” high blood pressure at times (was borderline for years). I am terrified of being railroaded by the cascade of interventions. I live in Canada, and so, as far as I know, OBs don’t get the same sort of kick backs, we don’t have to pay for most of it, but sometimes it’s about convenience.

    I feel confident that I have several doula acquaintances and friends to help me, they have recommended some good OBs, and my local maternity hospital is one of the best in the country. But the midwives there have all left save for one, allegedly due to differences between them and OBs.

    Good luck. I’m thinking of you. Here’s hoping for the best birth you can have. <3 🙂

  3. I just read your Nanny column on MSN and boy was it tough. I am not going to lie, as a mama farther down the road with 4 under my belt my first instinct was to judge. I saw all kinds of stuff that I WOULD,COULD, and DID do differently. And then I thought…easy now girl. So I came here and read your blog for a bit and I remembered how really hard all that stuff is when you are in the tall grass, I remembered how healthy and good natured my babies were, and they could still be total butts! You are obviously bright, devoted, loving and well intentioned young woman and you have done what it takes to be a good mother to your son. You found a way, that is what mamas do. Judging is easy, and it makes people feel better about there own hard stuff and missteps, and it’s also just plain shitty (so there’s that). Mothering is an art, not a science and your picture is a beautiful one. I wish you all the best.

    Now….on a side note I think the real reason I am commenting is that much of your story is, in many ways familiar to me. I say this because many of your fears, and your coping methods remind me, well of me. After I had read for a bit, I saw and felt some things that reminded me of my own struggles with a massive, and at times crippling, undiagnosed anxiety disorder. So many of your thought patterns and choices take me back to a place where even the most mundane tasks and challenges of keeping tiny humans (much less a baby with health issues) alive and well took a herculean amount of time and energy.So much of what I endured when my children were small was about my disorder. That of course is my story, not yours, but it just felt so close to home. I received world class treatment and although it was the hardest thing I have ever done (and I had a 10lb kid, OHHkay!)it has been life changing for me and my children. Everything is just plain easier when the whole world is no longer a big, huge, death trap. Anywhooooo, please take that in the spirit I intend it, and know that you have a new reader and someone who wishes you and your beautiful family the very best.

  4. I love your life stories and your honesty with parenting. I just gave birth to my second child earlier this month and I am enjoying my time off work, bonding with my new little guy and my 4 year old daughter who is “his second mommy”. I didn’t enjoy my first maternity leave as Emily screamed very loud and sleep for her was optional unless my parents were over holding her! If I left for 4 hours she sleep for 4 hours – it really made me mad (I hate to admit that). This time I’m not trying to be the perfect mom and I don’t feel I need to know everything because I am a nurse (I’m not an OB nurse). I wish you all the best with delivery and will catch up with your blog as time permits as you write your own story.

  5. I love what you wrote about your Nanny. You are blessed to have her and I appreciate tat upu acknowledge that.

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