My life now is all about your movements inside me -- feeling you kick, move, jab, poke -- anything that will show me you're alive and well and thriving. I wake up each day in anticipation, wondering what will prompt you to move, at what time, and for how long. If you take too long to make your presence known, I start worry, fearing the worst has happened. And when you finally greet me with a swift kick to my stomach, I count each jab, my smile growing wider with each successive one.
Nothing matters as much as those kicks. They are how I measure the hours, the days, the moments until you arrive and make me fall in love with life all over again. Nothing thrills me like feeling you move; there is nothing more important than you, your existence having by now overtaken my own.
Every little sensation makes me hold my breath, makes me stop in my tracks so I can just enjoy the moment and bask in your strength, your determination to grow and come into this world. Every little jab is miraculous -- and when you start to hiccup, my heart swells and I start to laugh -- because those hiccups drive home the undeniable fact that you are real. REAL. You are real and mine and wondrous in ways I never imagined you could be.
I haven't even held you yet and already you've made me a new, different, better woman. You've been the missing piece. And once I hold you in my arms, I will be a complete woman.