There is a fetus in my uterus and I’m really pleased. I’ve wanted her since I was a little girl. I used to lay on the top shelf of my bedroom closet (when I was small enough to fit) and imagine her—holding her tiny hand, watching her walk through tall grass, wading through streams, teaching her and loving her as she grows. She wakes me up every morning at about 3am, kicking and twisting her little body. I get up in the quiet of the almost morning and clean cupboards, dust books, organize closets and imagine her- perfect and new- in a clean house with little baskets filled with organic cloth diapers and blankets to wrap her in. I imagine mobiles made of driftwood, delicately suspended shiny coppery bits, tiny mirrors trimmed in colored ribbons that catch the light and catch her eye, dangling over the basket I’ll keep her in.
When Peti was inside me, I would put the speakers from the radio up to my belly and read while he listened to reggae and classical music. After he was born, there were nights when nothing would quiet him except this one Bob Marley CD I’d played for him before he was born. I’d light candles, turn the music up, hold him in my arms and dance him through the living room ‘til he settled and slept
I can’t imagine what she’ll be like. Everything seems new and possible. She kicks her tiny feet and I see my belly moving, grab Peti’s hand and place it where he can feel her. He laughs, his eyes light up. He’s wanted to be a big brother since he was 3 years old. We’re happy.
Her due date is December 25th. I expect and hope she will come a week or two early. I’m planning a homebirth and enjoying compiling a list of all the things I’ll need to bring her into the world comfortably. I can’t wait for winter- cozy fires and clean wood floors. Sheepskin naps. Baking bread and soup simmering on the stove. Newborn booties and blanket lined baskets with her tiny body swaddled securely inside.