11th January 2020.
I woke to a voice inside my mind. “Three weeks” it said. I felt the connection to my baby. Three weeks. Is that all it could be until my world would be transformed, never to be the same again? Three weeks from that morning, I would be 37+6 weeks pregnant. It would also coincide with the date my mum passed away.
Whether it was a message from the universe or just my inner-self connecting the dots between the weeks left before his arrival and my emotions, I was grateful for it. The thought stayed with me all day. Although I had always known that I was growing my son, it only just dawned on me that we would soon meet him and that I only had a few more weeks of being this version of me. The me without a biological child in the world. The me who could pop to the shops, work in this way & take time out. I would never be this me again, not for some time anyway, and even when he’s grown and has a life of his own, I’ll still always be thinking about this life I created that is somewhere in the world.
I looked at my calendar and thought about the things I wanted to do for this version of me with the precious time we had left together. I wanted to treat her to a facial, I wanted her to see close friends and family, I wanted her to spend some quality time with her partner and family of three before it became four. I wanted to create a safe and sacred place so that she could leave this phase of life calm and ready to welcome the woman she would become on the other side of the door.
I have overlooked how beautiful this being has been to me for the last 28 years. I will spend this next week celebrating her and giving her the recognition and love she deserves.