Wednesday marked the 29th week for this baby boy. Which means 11 weeks until he's born. Unless he comes early. Which I can't quite think about at the moment.
I utilize The Bump app for my weekly baby updates, and it mentioned that I should make sure that the nursery is stocked this week and that we should begin packing our hospital bag. I only panicked a tiny amount. Because WE'RE STILL HOMELESS. That's not true, I'm being dramatic.
But THERE IS NO NURSERY AND IT IS NOT STOCKED AND I HAVE NO BAGS, especially not a "hospital" bag. We have none of the things. Zero things. If I went into labor and our poor sweet son came into the world tonight, we'd be wrapping him into a pair of daddy's sweats and carrying him like a football all the way home, where we'd lovingly place him in a padded drawer to go night night. We have zero things, people.
As all parents do, we will somehow figure it out. Every day that this baby stays in there is a big hallelujah. I want him to grow big (but not too big) and strong and be ready to greet us when the time comes. It seems impossible that we're closing in on 30 weeks already. We cherish his presence and are constantly torn by our impatience to meet him and our desire to slow the rest of this pregnancy down, enjoying our time together and taking the necessary days to finish all of our house projects and actually move in. Whether we choose impatience or attempt to stop time, these next two months are going to go by faster than any in my lifetime of memory. I have a feeling time will continue to go by at this startling pace once he's in our arms, too. It's such an endeavor to cherish our days, even (and maybe especially) the mundane ones.
This month is Infant Loss Awareness Month. October 15th specifically is the annual day that's set aside to recognize Infant Loss and what it means for so many of us. It has been heavy on my heart today. Our sweet Poppy's due date would have been October 26th. It's a date I have been anticipating and dreading for many months now. Our loss is complexified by the immense joy we feel every time William's heartbeat thumps against our own hearts and his little kicks push against our hands. It's difficult to put into words how that hope and heartache intertwine. But today, I honor Poppy by remembering her in ways that only I can. I cry and rejoice in the same breath. I am so grateful for her life. Short, sweet, vibrant. I look forward to heaven in a new light, and to the many perfect faces we will see there. So many precious babies.
Thinking of you and yours on this day - those I know and those I do not. May you remember your lost children and have hope that they have been found in the arms of Jesus.
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