Voyage

My bags to motherhood are packed. There is nothing left to do now but wait. The ultimate game of the mind. This is what it boils down to. My spirit is ready. Yet every now and again, a twinge of fear zips through my belly. Fear of change. Fear of not being enough. Fear of the great roar of the unknown. Fear of all the horrible - and wonderful -possibilities waiting on the other side. This is a test, this early stage of labour, a test of the mind. I don’t know when you will arrive or whether I am ready for your arrival. All I have is trust. Trust in myself. Trust in presence, because only now is given.

As I sit and breathe the river air in, I am acutely aware of our lasts together. Is this the last time I will feel your little kicks from within? Is this the last time I will have you all to myself before the world greets you? Is this the last time I will feel this overwhelming urge to protect this belly, made from love, from everything? Is this the last time we will share the same breath, water, nutrients, skin, organs, molecules?

I’ve taken you outside today as a reminder that I’m not alone. I’ve carried you through the last dregs of summer, autumn, winter, and now spring. Writing this gives me comfort. We are one. This gives me strength for the voyage ahead. I am ready, Gabriel. Whenever you are.