I know that every mom gets excited and sentimental about finally feeling their baby move during pregnancy – and for good reason!
Feeling this tiny baby (almost a whole pound!) move – finally, (thanks, anterior placenta) is such a sweet reminder. It is a reminder of the hope that we have for the future, how in an instant God can unexpectedly change our lives forever, and how this world is so much bigger than us. How OUT of control we are, and a reminder that He is able – He is the fulfillment of every longing of man. A perfectly formed tiny human with four heart chambers, 10 toes, and her very own heartbeat. Likely going to be an image of her father or myself, and even more importantly, made in the image of the same sustainer of life that I am. How amazing.
Feeling her move is reminding me how strong and resilient she already is – and yet how much she will depend on her Dad and I for once she is here. It is reminding me of the responsibility I have to think about the decisions we have to make for her – when will we baptize her, where/when/should she go to daycare, how long will I stay home with her before returning from maternity leave, what kind of atmosphere do we want to bring her up in?
The constant reminder of her presence and my connection with her is further reminding me of how undeserving I feel to be her mother. Yet in the same moment, reminding me of how quickly my insecurities are laid to rest by a Father who sees me as fit and deserving to be a mother, even at my weakest. (And by a husband who tells me I’m beautiful, even through every pound gained and broken capillary in my face from nights spent with my face over a toilet bowl.)