Hope looks like a smile hiding the guilt, but more than that- the overwhelming fear that lightning, though rare does strike twice in some places. I can’t seem to shake that thought today. So I’m blogging about it, hoping it will be far from my heart tomorrow.
Hope looks like a mother-soon-to-be contemplating venturing out into Target to look at baby girl things again.
Hope looks like box of fabric shoved out of storage to make some headbands for our own daughter. I always hoped I would be able to make some for our own child one day, and while I wish to the moon and back that I could do this for Jenna, my heart skipped a beat when I realized I could actually do this for our new baby girl yesterday.
Hope looks like a mother-soon-to-be falling madly in love with her baby growing inside of her. Unguarded love. This type of love that has overwhelmed by heart since the news on Friday has left me feeling completely vulnerable at the same time. I feel like up until now, I have been withdrawing myself a bit, fearful that something could happen. But something about finding out the sex of your baby, it just makes the whole pregnancy more real. So real that you just can’t help it anymore.
She is coming. And let me just say I wish I could just type out her name right now because her name is beyond gorgeous (in my humble opinion) ;) and well, the meaning behind it is something I just can’t get over. It’s perfect in every way.
Hope is telling Bubby he is going to have a baby sister, and watching him point his chubby little finger up against my fast-growing belly and repeating “bay-bee sistuh”.
Hope looks like a Pinterest board, with baby girl things, colors, and nursery ideas while the baby has not yet arrived.
Hope looks like the incredibly real joy that I cannot hide even if I wanted to when I tell people “The doctor said we are having a girl!!”.
Hope looks like a dream in my head, wondering what it will be like to mother two babies here, and a daughter in Heaven.
Hope looks like a bird who just got her feathers, ready to take on the world, and chase her dreams. Hope feels incredible.
Hope is also a vulnerable place. A place where dreams can be crushed. A place where you are challenged to embrace so much when you have so little to go by.
Hope looks like a heart pleading before God, but the inability to find even one word. I have no words, just an earnest cry that God lets us keep her.
Hope looks like this mama, unable to keep still. I feel like I need to do something. These next few months will no doubt be the longest months in a long time.