Yesterday, I cleaned out Eli’s room. I went through his drawers and his closet and bags of clothes and figured out what he can wear in the future and pulled out what’s just too small and separated the winter clothes from the summer clothes. I folded up the clothing that was too small and placed them in the container. Holding those clothes in my hands for the last time, knowing that now we have a girl to plan for and that she is our last child felt … good.
I had always heard that when you’re done having children, you just know. And it’s funny how I just know about this now.
So now we have a lot to do in our home to get ready. As I mentioned, we are working to simplify our home by getting rid of a lot of our belongings and also working to properly store everything so it’s easy to maintain.
We have our plans for what we’re going to do with the bedrooms once the baby comes, so now it’s planning who gets what and what goes where and what do we have to buy and please don’t buy a lot.
This weekend I ordered clothes for the baby, this was a huge leap of faith for me but I did it and Anna helped me pick them out and that added to our excitement.
We’re planning and excited but we’re not wishing away any time.
From Eli’s room I packed up nursing pads, changing pads and burping pads. I found lanolin and tiny baby toys and bassinet sheets and folded them neatly and placed them into a container marked with her name knowing the next time I opened that container would probably be to unpack it into a little girl’s room.
So, I find these beautiful ideas that inspire me for her room and I fold the burp clothes that are bound to wipe her little chin and I smell the little sheets that go on the bassinet even though she’ll probably never leave our arms and yet, I ask, and beg for her…
to just move.
move for mama. just a nudge. I need to know you’re okay.
And this goes on all day and all night, everyday, no matter how busy I am. In the back of my mind I need that reassurance. That kick, that bounce, that hiccup.
Because I have felt the silence before and that silence is the most distracting, most deafening noise I have ever heard and felt.
That’s where I’m at. Trying to be faithful. Waiting so very patiently to hold her in our arms, to smell her head and to photograph her feet. We plan and talk as if her arrival is as sure as a plane landing in a few hours with her on board but nothing is that definite.
So, while I’m begging her to dance for me, I look at pretty things and show them to you.
I hope that’s okay with you.