As someone who has deeply enjoyed working with kids since being a kid myself, I always knew and felt excited to have a few of my own. Yet, even after getting married at 29, and then hitting the big THREE-OH while my husband entered his mid-thirties, I still felt the strong need to wait.
Seeing my friends’ adorable babies scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed certainly didn’t make the wait any easier. One more year, one more book, I’d tell myself.
After going through over 6 years of college and graduate school, studying to pursue my lifelong dream of becoming an author, I knew I needed to establish myself somehow. I knew that finding an agent or publisher was just like finding a husband, a soulmate – dealing with many painful rejections before finding the perfect match, if ever. Then, when my path lead me into independent publishing, it was like giving birth to two babies that I needed to care for constantly, just like real children.
“It’s a lot of work,” I continued to hear about having babies and having independent books. And while I had an uber amount of experience taking care of little ones and rocking my co-worker’s children to sleep, I would continually hear: “You always get to return them at the end of the day.”
And then I’d hear that independent authors needed to continually give their books lots of attention to help grow their readership.
It was just over the past year where the itch for real children of my own really began to make me squirm.
“She’ll come when she’s ready,” I reminded myself. More cute babies. More days passing by. More close friends sharing their exciting news. On top of it, I’d hear about how getting pregnant is not always the easiest thing for some women, especially as we get older… Yet, I continued to remind myself that she would come when she was ready. And yes, I say she. I always felt like I would have two charming daughters, just like my mom.
The first time I heard our baby’s heartbeat, I was hit with the realization that another person’s being existed within my own. Tears welled up in my eyes. Though a tiny blob of a person, seeing and hearing each thump through the ultrasound made it that much more real – she was on her way.
There was one day, just before seeing that initial ultrasound, that I thought I had lost her. Through my worry and fear, I continued to reassure myself: If she’s not ready yet, it’s okay. It will all be okay.
The first thing I learned from my unborn baby? That our children come to us with their own agenda. They have their own timing, apart from what we hope and plan. I do not believe our children come to us by accident. As a kid, I was always so intrigued by who we are and become as people. Did God choose who we were born to? Did we even exist before being born? Were we merely a spark created on that fateful day of conception?
Years later, I discovered stories about peoples’ memories of choosing their parents and many aspects of their lives before coming to Earth. That we do not become who we are by chance. The whole concept made so much sense to me, especially since I always felt like I had to have been somewhere before becoming this little girl in Massachusetts sometime in the 1980s.
I know I will have to continue to keep this in mind as my baby grows up – that is so important to nurture and encourage our children’s special gifts, no matter what we envision for them. We cannot control them, but we can guide them with our whole hearts, and all that we’ve learned about ourselves from living. Though we give them life and we help them grow, it is their life to live, no matter what we intend for them or whether their very purpose is similar – or very different from our own.
Next, I learned (not so eagerly) that our children teach us patience before they even enter the world.
Patience is the number one trait we must nurture when having or working with children, but we don’t often associate it with a little fetus…until the time actually comes.
The wait between ultrasounds literally drove me up a wall. Was our little blob healthy, growing okay? Did it have 10 fingers and 10 toes? Did it actually have arms? Was it even still in there? Is it a boy or is it really a girl? The more people guessed, the more crazy I became, and the more patience my little one taught me. While I knew all that mattered was that the baby was healthy, I’d hear that it was definitely a boy, or that it was a girl, and the weeks couldn’t seem to go by fast enough. Even finding out that the sex could be determined with about 80% accuracy with a good ultrasound “nub shot” picture at 12-13 weeks, I was still going nuts. The ultrasound tech guessed girl. The experts guessed girl. My intuition told me girl. But did it really matter?
I will be who I am, Mom, do not worry. Have patience and trust that it will all be okay. Relax.
When it was confirmed that she is, in fact, healthy, and growing and developing the right way, I finally breathed a sigh of relief and began to fully enjoy it, especially the little nudges, and wiggles, and kicks, which continually reminded me I was helping to grow a little human being. Creating a body, but not a life.
The third thing I learned from my unborn daughter? Before I got pregnant, I was going at 100 miles a minute. Marketing. Writing. Exercise. Running errands. Cleaning. Coaching. Making dinner. Laundry. Not always sleeping. I was exhausted, and didn’t always take time to “smell the roses” as they say. While I did try to make time to meditate, I was not always fully present during many aspects of my life. And even though into my first trimester I began to feel guilty for not getting everything done that needed to be done that day, I learned to feel and enjoy the moment. I learned to fully relax.
People continue to ask me, “I bet you can’t wait until November?!” And as excited as I am to meet my little girl, I know that there are books to be taken care of it. There is preparation to be done before my little one’s arrival. There is a gymnastics meet season to conquer. Until November, I will savor every little movement, every breath of fresh air, every smile from the kids that I coach. I will enjoy my 8 hours of sleep, and even the nights I wake up a little too early for a bathroom run, but find that she is awake, too.
And I know that when I finally hold her in my arms, hear her first giggle, look into her little eyes and see bits of myself, my love, but more importantly, this little being all her own, it will all have been worth the wait.