Two women I love are waiting for their babies to arrive right now. One is thirty-five weeks pregnant with a baby boy after the miscarriages of four other children over the past year. The other awaits final approval for an international adoption of a four year old boy, although bureaucratic red tape seems to be running circles around her, threatening the entire process.
Both of these expectant mothers hold pictures of the children that make their hearts beat, yet whom they have not met. An ultrasound. A photograph. How many hours have been spent staring into these pictures trying to figure out who these children are and who they will become? For both, it was love at first sight.
I am lucky. I have two beautiful, healthy children. I didn’t have any problems getting pregnant or carrying them to term. I don’t take it for granted. I still wake up and go to sleep with a pinch-me-I-can’t-believe-these-angels-are-really-mine sense of gratitude. My children are the first thing in my life that I got the best. I didn’t realize how used to disappointment I was until I had them and they were perfect. Accepting that things don’t work out according to plan had become second nature to me. And then, somehow the universe gave me exactly what my heart desired most. Motherhood astounds me: the love, the spiritual blessings, the sacred gift of a life entrusted to my care. I am in awe.
In the beginning I stared at pictures too. My ultrasounds. All mothers do that. The looking, the waiting, the dreaming of a future you’re almost too afraid to hope for because you want it so badly. That’s gestation. It dosen’t matter if the child is growing in your belly, another woman’s belly or growing outside the womb already on his own two feet. The beginning of motherhood is the same. It starts with a spark of love, a glimmer of hope and a leap of faith. It’s fraught with fear. What if something goes wrong? It’s fraught with self-doubt. Am I making all the right choices? It’s full of all-consuming thoughts and dreams that leave no room in your mind for any other concern. It’s sheer, utter craziness. It’s the possibility of a shattered heart. It’s the excitement of a life nearly bursting with joy. Above all, it is anticipation. The beginning of a journey. The beginning of the grandest love affair.
Much love to the new moms on the block, and best wishes for the safe and speedy arrivals of your sons, M and A.
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