It's 11:25 and in about 8 hours you will make your grand entrance into the world. You and I will no longer share this space. Starting tomorrow morning you'll be your own little creature.
I won't feel every roll or flutter or hiccup. I won't think about every little thing I put in my mouth. I won't imagine the color of your eyes or the shape of your feet. You'll be here.
It's a little bittersweet, to know that tomorrow you'll begin your journey and that will only lead you away from me. I'm always a bit sad when a phase ends, even if it does involve swollen ankles, horrible sleep, and pelvic pressure.
But...the upside is that I get to meet you and touch your soft skin and kiss your sweet face. I can't wait for that. I wish I could skip over the needles and the cutting and the worry and go right to you snuggled against my chest. That is what makes the rest of it worth it.
So now I'm going to try and sleep. And when I wake we'll start our next phase, together.