You’re glowing, my friend.
I mean it. Not in the obligatory, you’re-so-nauseated-that-you’re-sweating-and-I-feel-compelled-to-say-something-kind-to-you-about-it way. But in the you-made-a-child-and-joy-is-literally-emanating-from-you way. You’re pregnant, sweet friend.
And I am not.
You are craving cheese tator tots and vanilla milkshakes and sweet-talking your husband into nightly Sonic runs and foot rubs. And I am not.
You are marveling at the sound of your baby’s heartbeat and framing the first ultrasound picture. And I am not.
You are laughing and crying, hands pressed to your stomach as you feel the first tiny flutters of movement. And I am not.
You are over the moon about pink balloons and sugar and spice, contemplating names and smiling at the way they sound when you pair them together. And I am not.
You are carefully picking out nursery colors and a rocking chair, daydreaming about sitting in that room with your baby in your arms. And I am not.
You are packing your hospital bag with things you know you’ll never use but can’t resist including because what if you lose seven pacifiers and really need that eighth one. And I am not.
You are about to lay eyes on your very own little person, heart exploding with love. Your pregnancy journey is ending, and I am still waiting for mine to begin. And the waiting is breaking my heart.
But I need you to know that my joy for you could never be diminished because I am not yet standing where you are. While I am waiting for my miracle, I will rejoice with you at yours. I will celebrate the highs with you and hold your hand through the lows. Because I love you. And because there’s nothing that could keep me from walking through this beautiful thing with you. Nothing.
So keep sharing. Don’t hold back. Pull me into the fold and let me watch you with pride.
And I will keep waiting.