The Last Day I Will Carry You

I have carried you for nine long months.  This morning when I woke up it was the first morning in nine months I didn't have to get up by my alarm to take medicine at the right time, the first time in nine months I didn't have to give myself a shot this morning, the first time in nine months I just laid in bed with nothing I needed to jump up to do to keep you safe inside me.  I just laid there feeling you wiggle around, until I heard "Mommy, Come get me!" coming from your big sister's room :) Yes, I have carried you for nine months.  I can remember when we weren't sure I would even carry you long enough for your heart to start beating, when we weren't sure I would carry you past 16 weeks, when our goal was just for me to carry you to 24 weeks when you would be viable outside of me.  I remember being so surprised when I started feeling you move at just 16 weeks and how strong and frequent your kicks were that early.  I remember finding out you were a girl and the joy it brought my heart (I secretly hoped you would be a girl).  I remember surprising your Mimi and Papa with a cake that told them you were a girl and how happy they were.  I remember all the many ultra sounds that showed you were growing, developing, thriving and doing well.  So many anxious days, so many sleepless nights, so much fear that I would lose you,  so many desperate moments of checking to make sure your heart was still beating, so many needle pokes and bruises on my tummy, so many band-aids stuck to my tummy after a needle stick, as if they were a physical announcement that this tummy is broken and doesn't work so well when it comes to carrying babies.  Moments of joy, moments of sadness, moments of sheer hope and faith.  It's been quite a ride baby girl and it's almost over.  This is our last day to be connected to one another, your last day inside of me.  So bittersweet.  I won't miss many aspects of this pregnancy, but as hard as it has been, I will miss carrying you, your kicks, your rolls, a tummy big and round from blossoming life, the reality that against all odds I have a little miracle inside of me.  I will miss this part my dear one.  Very much.

It is still unreal to me that tomorrow I will hold you in my arms.  Tomorrow the hope and faith of you will become reality.  I don't know how I will feel when I see you...relieved, completely smitten as I was the first time I saw your sister, scared or just numb.  That is my biggest fear. That I will feel numb from the overwhelming emotion of the last nine months and especially the last week.  I want feelings that live up to the heartache we have endured to have you.  I don't want it all to have been for nothing,  I want joy and overwhelming love at the sight of you sweet girl and I fear I may not be able to feel those things because of recent circumstances.  Maybe I just still can't believe you are real.  I feel you.  I know you are in there but my heart has been hurt for so long, perhaps I have forgotten how to feel pure joy. Perhaps you will remind me.  That is my hope. 

This is the last day that I will carry you.  I will never again carry a child but because of you amazing baby I will end my child bearing days with sweet victory over this struggle.  Tomorrow I will see you.  I will know you. We will start our life together.  I can't wait to hold you, kiss you, feed you, rock you, sing to you, tickle you, see you laugh and smile, watch you grow up, walk, talk, play and grow into the amazing little girl God has destined for you to be.  I can't wait for Christmas mornings, notes in your lunch box, Halloween costumes, first days of school, late night cuddles when you are afraid, Saturday morning pancakes and cartoons, Friday night movies and popcorn, vacations on the beach, I can't wait for life with you.  You are life.  You come to us when we need you most.  You are our sunshine amidst the storm.  You are proof that God gives just what we need, just when we need it.  You are love.  You are a fighter.  You are our girl and a special angel watches down from heaven as you come to us tomorrow.  I can see her smile, see her tears of joy.  I can hear her voice and feel her hug me at the sight of you.  I can see her holding you, gazing with a look of pure love.  She would literally rather have died than for you to not have made it here.  She prayed for you and God answered her prayer, my prayer, so many prayers.  This is the last day I will carry you.  But tomorrow is the first day of your LIFE. Enjoy this gift that has been given to you, the gift of life.  Enjoy it, treasure it and honor God with it.  Be happy.  That's what she would want and that's what I want.  There is no pressure to live up to the standards of a miracle baby.  You don't have to do anything but just be you and be happy.  And though this is the last day I will carry you inside me, tomorrow starts a life time of me carrying you in my arms, carrying you through trials, carrying you in my heart the way only a mother can.  I will carry you forever and I will love you always and forever and no matter what.