In the Quiet

My little corner of the blogosphere -- it's been so quiet, hasn't it?

I don't feel bad about it, really.

Because it's what I need.  There is the huge, momentous thing about to happen -- our second child's birth -- and I need to be quiet.  My mind's eye has turned inward, at myself and at this precious little boy, and all of my energy is pouring into the watching, the waiting.

So I am quiet.

It is needed.

What am I doing in the quiet?

I am counting kicks, and contractions.  Jacob is cleared to arrive any time he cares to now, so I am paying close attention to his movements and to my uterus.  He is well and healthy, as far as can be told. 

I am shying away from the fear.  It is still there, never far away, but I am choosing excitement, choosing life.

I am reading.  I am reading about God, and messiness, and how the two are not mutually exclusive.  I am ready a massive tome on baby care, and crying at the ways that I never got to mother my daughter, and crying at the ways I was not mothered myself.  Who knew that such a practical book could unearth such complex emotion?

I am resting.  Even though I am no longer on bed rest, I do what I can to rest.  I take naps.  I don't set an alarm to wake me in the morning unless I absolutely must.  I listen to my body and try to give it what it needs.

I am celebrating.  We had a small, semi-impromptu baby shower last week.  It was absolutely perfect, just what I needed -- a handful of friends coming together to stand intimate witness.  There were words of weight spoken, prayers whispered, gifts given, food shared. 

I am preparing.  Last-minute baby items have been bought, and our nursery/spare bedroom is brimming with things for this little boy.  I have been washing his clothes and blankets and sheets, and the faith required to do this leaves me breathless sometimes. 

I am writing -- but not on this blog very much (obviously).  There is something about this short season of final waiting that seems too fragile to process publicly.  But I am still writing, and it is good.  One day, perhaps, it will come into the light, but for now it is reserved for the sacred dark of my private notebooks.

I am loving.  Everyday my heart seems to be more overflowing with love and care for my husband.  And he has been particularly sweet with me, too.  We are enjoying these last days without our first living child in our arms while simultaneously anticipating his arrival with great eagerness.  This time feels very special. 

I am waiting.  I have been waiting for a long while -- since the late spring of 2011, when the Best Husband Ever and I first discovered that we were parents.  By the time our rainbow boy arrives, we will have been waiting for our child(ren) for fourteen of the past seventeen months.

And I am quiet.  I feel as if my soul is holding its breath.  This time, it is special and it is vulnerable, and everything feels like it could come too easily crashing down.

So I stay quiet and still, and hope.

"The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."

 ~ Job 1:21