April Baby

I’m having a baby.  A little girl is growing inside of me right now.  I know because I can feel her strong kicks and jolts as she wiggles from side to side of my belly. 

From Autumn to Winter to Spring, my April baby will do some of her most crucial growth in the cold dark winds of winter.  She’ll experience long nights and short days, and skies that barely let a sliver of light through—as if we’re always living in a giant planet’s shadow. 

Her organs will develop just as it turns cold. Her skin will lose its translucency on a night when the concrete sheet of clouds hide even the brightest stars.  Her heart will grow strong when the chill of winter takes on startling permanence.  And when there is nothing but shades of brown and gray to look at, her eyes will begin to open.  She’ll hear the winds swirling around my belly and tuck in further. 

April babies grow through the seasons where life seems quiet and slows down to an indoor pace.  I used to wonder how life survives such coldness but now I know life is adaptable.  Each day as my April baby grows, I’m one step deeper into winter and one step closer to spring—when new life will bloom for the first time.

Her arrival feels distant and strange.  I’m waiting to meet the tiny person who will come into this world with a jolt, take my heart, take Brandon’s heart, show us our weaknesses, prove to us we’re not in control, and remind us of God’s love. I don’t know how to prepare for something like that—a person who requires so much of us physically and emotionally. 

I keep waiting for someone to tell me I cant meet her until I get my degree or certificate or license or whatever is required to be a parent.  I keep waiting for a call with directions for how to practice to be good parents.  And yes, I have read books but books are insignificant.  Reading a book to prepare for parenting is like being sent blindfolded skydiving into a foreign land.  I don’t speak the language. I don’t have skills to navigate the culture.  I don’t know how to skydive blindfolded—but I read a book. 

I know this is the rite of passage every parent must walk through.  It’s a human thing.  We create children and we love them and we can’t prepare for the future like we want to. Unable to practice for this life change, I wait out the cold winter cherishing every nudge that reminds me life is hearty and life grows in Winter.


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