I will be 34 weeks pregnant in just a couple of days and for the first time in my entire pregnancy, the fear of what is actually going to happen is finally taking place. First–the fear of labor. How bad will it hurt? Will I have to get an episiodomy? Will the baby get his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck? Oh my gosh, a human is going to come out of me!! Then there is the acknowledgment that I will no longer be going out on weekend nights. Baby sitting will be a rare luxury and my child will be the primary focus of Saturday nights at least for the next 14-16 years until Kanan begins to do his own thing, but by then, I will be so worried and concerned about him being okay, I probably won’t be able to do anything even then but wait up for him until his curfew brings him home (or not). Pregnancy is just the beginning….my life as I knew it before being pregnant is officially over and a new life is beginning. Hopefully better, but definitely different.

Then there is the emerging heat of the mother bear growing inside of me. I feel her beginning to growl ….a quiet but intimidating growl…warning everyone around that she will rip apart anything that may hurt her child. It’s scary to feel the change inside of me, yet liberating at the same time. To be for the first time, free from concern over myself and instead, purely for the life and welfare of someone else. Yet at the same time, feeling instinctively incapable of taming a part of me that already loves something so much, I would be willing to die to protect it.

Well, Kanan is coming and there is nothing stopping him. The next 6 weeks are going to take forever as I wait for this beautiful child to introduce himself to me and Mike. I cannot wait to hold him. To kiss him. To smell his sweet, baby smell. To hear his first (of many many more) cry. Until then, I will bask in these moments like tonight…sitting here quietly in the living room, holding my belly and feeling him move inside of me–pressing his feet into my ribcage, sliding his knees and feet back and forth across my womb so that I can not only feel him, but see him. To anticipate and dream about him. What will he look like? What will he be like? Will he love Mike and I? Will he be healthy and happy in our care? What will he make of his life? What can I do so that he attains all that he is worth? What can I do to show him this world–its good and bad and lead him to a path that will allow him to see more of its beauty and less of its suffering? There is so much at stake here. My life is just beginning—I am being born again through the birth of this child. What a beautiful gift I have been given. And so I hope one understands my deeply rooted concern when I say that I hope I don’t @#$% this up.