I whispered close in my dear friend’s ear last night, Have you felt the baby move yet?
Yes, she said. I’m pretty sure.
Since my baby’s feet are now longer than his body length was at birth, I’m experiencing new joy in following the pregnancy of not one but three expectant mothers at church. It’s a happy activity looking at ultrasound pictures and rounding tummies.
What irony, then, to realize I am in a nine-month gestation.
It started back in late August with a new job that I was in no way prepared for. In the second trimester I planned my dad’s funeral. And I believe full term is May 25 when I watch that preacher man of mine walk our little girl down the aisle.
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trails of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2-4 NIV)
…so that you may be mature and complete -10 fingers and 10 toes.
Except I’m the one who’s growing, kicking and maturing in the womb of circumstances.
How strange and uncomfortable, feeling my soul develop in the middle of tears and knotted shoulders and moments of panic. I mark my own perseverance on the calendar, slow and impatient to meet this new person I will be at the end of it all.
But it’s worth it, right? Nine months? Any new mother will tell you yes, even when she’s puking up lunch.
I whispered in my friend’s ear, This is the most intimate time, just you and the soft movements of your growing child.
Most intimate, to feel something growing inside of you.