I made three stops this morning with both girls. Three. With only a couple minor breakdowns, brought on (as usual) by hunger or hair pulling. That may be my greatest accomplishment this week. And proud I am.
However, this week, I’ve really made an effort to go and do and be with my girls. A desperate effort, even. Because I know our time as “just the girls” is quickly coming to an end. And while there is great joy and anticipation awaiting the birth of our Baby Boy, there is also a grieving. A small one, albeit. But a real one.
Some of that grief is based in fear. How will I ever go anywhere with three kids? How will I keep them fed, and happy and alive?! I often lament, sometimes aloud.
“You’ll make it work,” comes the answer, either from Myself or Andy or God. “You wondered the same before One, and the same before Two. And look, today, even at 38 1/2 weeks pregnant, you and your beautiful girls went to three places! You can do it.”
So those fears are calmed for the moment. I know it will be difficult, but I know I can do it.
But, it will be so different. Three. We’re just discovering who Lu really is, and Mo grows in Beauty and Wisdom every day. I don’t want to miss any of that, and I know I will…
And here comes the answer, like salve for my heart, “Yes, you might miss some moments. But look at Monica. Is she less because of Lucia? Do you know her less, love her less, rejoice in her less? No, of course not. She is more because of her sister. More loving, more caring, more vocal, more joyful. Baby Boy will do the same. Make more out of all of you.”
So I wait. I wait for our family of four to become a family of five. I wait for my body to do the work necessary to split from one person into two. I wait in a mix of peace, panic and desperation. Peace that he is meant to be. Panic that he may come tomorrow (CLEAN ALL THE THINGS!). Desperation that he may wait for several weeks (let’s get this party started already, k?).
And while I wait, I love. I love on my girls. Chances are, they won’t remember not having a brother. To them, he will always be a part of their story. But I will remember. I will remember “just the girls.” And I will love those memories, those moments. The giggles and the pink and the dress up and the high heels. The fights and the melt downs and messes. The wake up cuddles and the bedtime snuggles with only two on my lap. They are all a part of the story, part of our tale that I don’t want to forget.
So, Mo Bug and Lulu Bell,
Some day in the future, when you’re reading this, know that when it was just the three of us, we had a really good time. We found worms, and fed the chickens, and went to the zoo, and painted pictures and tickled and sang and danced. Oh, how we danced! None of those things will change when your brother arrives. In fact, I bet life gets even better! But know that the last several years together have been some of my happiest. And I’m so blessed you two made me the mom of daughters. I love you both.