My calendar's gone empty.
Back in November, I bought this massive day-to-day calendar complete with dinners, dollars, goals and year plans - not to mention an entire section on branding. I've latched onto these pages like salve, trying to make my way into some type of coherent stay-at-home-ness where I actually accomplish something. For the most part, it's worked for me. I've finished a whole lot more than I ever anticipated.
Until recently. This week, in fact.
Russ and I met little lion man's birth family this weekend. While sitting there in the middle of Gatti-Town outside of Houston, their daughter running back and forth and watching the arcade games and fingering her token card, it hit me kind of suddenly: this is really happening.
And then the mom looked at us and told us that all of her pregnancies have ended early. How she birthed her oldest at 37 weeks and her youngest at 39 and as she's saying these things, the words are computing but my heart just keeps beating faster and faster because he's almost here. Our son. He's almost in our arms and we've waited almost three years to even say that out loud.
So this week, my calendar has remained empty. I've slowed down my check list and have tried to rest a little more than usual, even though that's almost laughable because of the anticipation building.
Every morning I wake up and the butterflies flutter to life, and it's a different type of question - a different way of looking at will it be today?
Because our son is only a breath away, and this mama heart is pulsing to life in a brand new roar.