Matt has read in his father guidebook that it’s a good idea for a dad to read stories to his fetus, so that when the baby is born, her dad’s voice already relaxes her. So we sit side by side on the couch and he opens Curious George. He kisses my belly. “Hi, Mary! I’m going to read you a story now!” The joy in his voice fills my heart to overflowing.
It’s all still so surreal for me, this whole parenting thing. Matt talks to Mary every day and tells her he loves her. He rubs my belly and gives her kisses. I’m much more likely to talk about Mary than to her. It feels silly to look at my belly and tell my child that I love her. I do, of course. But it’s sometimes hard to remember that the nudges and kicks inside my belly are coming from a real live person who will soon be making her grand entrance. I try to imagine her as a newborn, a toddler, a kindergartner, but all I can picture is her fuzzy silhouette from the ultrasound screen. I have no idea what’s coming. There is no way I can be ready.
He spots the worried lines in my forehead from across the room and comes to soothe them with a kiss.
All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.
– St. Julian of Norwich
Linked up with Heather of Extraordinary Ordinary for Just Write.