Kick me, baby, one more time!

Today, I am a proud mama! Last night, I was watching American Idol with my mother, lying on my back with my palm on the bump just below my bellybutton.  Candice Glover was singing a song by The Cure, and my Tiny Dancer must have loved her voice, because I felt the teensiest little ‘thump’ on my hand! Twice! So of course, I promptly freaked out, and grabbed my mom’s hand, and she felt it, too.  By then, I was in tears, and my heart was racing, because in one single moment I realized that all of the mood swings, and breakouts, and morning sickness, and looking like I’ve eaten one too many cheeseburgers, and the constant fear that I will lose this one, too – it was worth it. There is, in fact, a baby in there, and it’s strong enough to kick my belly!

No, my fear won’t go away until I have a living, breathing, healthy baby in my arms. In fact, as all of this was going on, I had to push the thought out of my mind that maybe Baby is allergic to the peanuts in my Peanut Buster Parfait.  But, as I’ve learned, God has His hand in everything.  It’s out of my hands and, thankfully, into those of One much more competent than I.  All I can do is love my child with everything that I am.  And pray.

…And maybe lay off the Peanut Buster Parfaits.

Parting words of wisdom: Storms have a way of teaching what nothing else can.

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