This little spaz inside of me is right now, a squirmy lump about whom I know very little. I know she has hair (I saw it on the 3D ultrasound and the insane heartburn tipped me off as well). I know she's crazy active, kicks like a horse and is exceptionally advanced in all areas. Just trust me on that last one, I saw her grabbing her umbilical cord in the ultrasound. Her motor skills are phenomenal. But I don't know her. We don't know her. She's about to emerge into the world, a whole person, a whole little stranger. She'll be so much more than a non-verbal pile of poop and cuteness. And this parent thing is...big.
I also attended a funeral this weekend. The funeral of an amazing woman and mom who I was lucky to know even a little bit. You can read more about her here. Her kids are important people in our life and I felt privileged to hear their stories and share in their joy as they celebrated her life. As we laughed and cried over a life well lived, a heart well-used, the endless flips and kicks of my little ninja took on a new and nearly overwhelming meaning to me. Lorraine succeeded as a parent. She succeeded because she saw her three babies as individuals meant to be encouraged and loved into their unique identities. The result: three incredible adults, flawed but equipped to live well in this world. It's too easy already to imagine this kid that lives inside of me will be an extension of myself and of Jon. To assign her traits I believe she will have or hope she will learn. It's almost impossible not to have preconceived ideas and expectations. The most beautiful thing would be to let her trample all over them on her way to becoming an unexpectedly delightful person--a person I could never predict or control. Here's to hoping we can let that happen.
Pray for Grant