The time before your child is born is an amazing and terrifying time. They exist only as pure potential.

The promise of forward movement.

You can’t wait for them to arrive so you can find out who they are.

I have three babies. They object to my calling them babies since they’re 12, 11, and 9 but I tell them “You’re always going to be my babies. When I’m 80 and you’re in your 50s, you’ll be my babies.”

I loved spooning with Jane when she was pregnant. It was hard for her to sleep and I loved it when she was finally able to drift off. I would lay there, curled up next to her, listening to her slow breathing. My stomach pressed against her back.

The funny thing about fetuses is that they get used to a certain amount of movement. The constant jostling and rocking during the day. That means they like to wake up at night.

I loved the feeling of the pokes and kicks against my arm as it lay draped over her swollen belly.

The knowledge that someone was in there, waiting to meet me.