Every Saturday, I move into a new week of pregnancy. I’m set up on a website that emails me every Saturday morning welcoming me to week such-and-such. We have a ritual that I wake up Neal and read to him about what our baby is doing this week. It makes the whole experience a little more real. To know that right now there is a lil’ baby inside of me, that I can’t feel, that is dancing for joy. S/he is now clenching lil’ fists and there are even tiny tooth buds under their gums. THAT is thriving within me.
I pray every day that this baby is healthy, first and foremost. It can be a boy or a girl, I just pray that it has 10 tiny fingers and 10 tiny toes. (Though, tiny toes are unlikely because momma has size 10 feet and daddy struggles to find 14 Wide’s. But there is hope.)
And after I pray for a healthy baby, I pray that it’s happy. Like its dad. I’ve said it before, though quiet, Neal is the happiest man I’ve ever met. And it takes nothing to make him that way, he’s just… is. (Which at first, I thought it was a lil’ screwy, but whatev. Haha.)
And then I pray s/he has Neal’s beautiful blue eyes and his chubby cheeks, with my winning smile. I hope Niblet is smart like both of us, has a zest for life like Neal, and a talent like mine.
But most of all, I just pray that we have a healthy child. And I guess that’s all you can really ask for.