Pregnant and Quarantined

Well, here we are.

37 weeks.

We are in our final three weeks of this pregnancy together. The last days where you’ll grow inside me.

The last days I’ll get you all to myself, wrapped safe and warm inside where nothing and nobody can hurt you.

The last days where I wake up at night feeling you kick like crazy, sitting up in bed just to watch you move my belly all around.

In just three short weeks everything I’ve imagined you to be will be right in front of me.

It doesn’t even feel real.

For nine months I’ve been at the doctor’s office every two weeks seeing your face.

Listening to your heartbeat, and watching you move.

Your dad and I have been waiting for the day we get to hold you.

We’ve imagined what it will be like to hear your first cry. What will you look like? Will you have red hair like dad, or light hair like me? Will your eyes be blue or green? We have stayed up just daydreaming about having you with us.

But now, more than ever, I’m terrified it’s almost time to meet you.

The world has gotten quite scary lately.

Dad can’t even come see you at the doctor anymore. Your brothers won’t get to come see you at the hospital. I don’t have any idea when you’ll get to meet your grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins.

Some places won’t even let Dad’s be in the delivery rooms anymore. Am I going to have to deliver you alone in a room full of strangers?

Who is going to be working in the room having to touch you? Where have they been? Have they helped someone who is sick?

Will we get sick as we wait for them to discharge us from the hospital?

How risky is a home delivery? Is it my best chance to protect you from this sickness?

All these questions keep me up at night.

There’s no way to know. Things are constantly changing here.

I have to bring you into a world that I can’t protect you from.

I wish these last few weeks of pregnancy could be filled with only excitement and joy as we prepare for you to enter our family. I wish everyone who has been dreaming of meeting you the past 9 months could come see you at the hospital. I wish we could take you outside and show you around the world you just came into. I wish we could capture your newborn pictures, and enjoy everything about you being here.

But when you get here, things will be different than they should be. You’ll stay within these four walls, with just your dad, brothers, and I here with you.

We will have to figure out this first-time mom thing together. We can’t have your aunts or grandmas come show us the ropes. We’re just gonna have to wing it baby girl. I hope you’re really patient.

As scary as things may seem, and as much as I wish I could keep you tucked away safe forever, I have never been more ready to love a human being in my life.

I cannot wait to meet you, Rae. ♥️