A letter to myself... A year ago

Dear momma-of-two-to-be,

Right now you are going weekly to get NSTs done of Maddox. You're trapped once a week in a small room anxiously watching his heart rate. Then you get to see him perfectly on an ultrasound week after week. You're miserable, huge, and tired. But cradle that big belly. Pray over that belly. Embrace the perfection that is that baby filled belly.

Oh, soak this up. 

Breathe.

Life will change in two weeks. Life as you know it will be done. In two weeks you'll settle in to life in a hospital for 40 days. 

More than that, over the next year your life will change in ways you can't even fathom right now. Honestly, that first week in the hospital, you won't even understand. I wish I could tell you things to watch for, listen for, and notice during labor and delivery, but I still don't know those answers. I wish so badly I could tell you how to make this all end differently, but I can't. Me from a year ago, don't do anything different. Embrace every minute. Love every second.

Over the next year, your relationships will change. You'll become close to people you haven't met yet. You'll find friends inside those hospital walls that will be at your side through some very tough decisions, decisions that even come long after you're home. This next year will change you, your marriage, and your family. Bonds will form, end, and change. Everything will change. 

You'll meet God all over again. You'll realize he's more than the chill bumps found at the camp fire at church camp. He's more than the random "ah-hah" moment when you realize that a prayer was answered. God is about to be front and center. Embrace that. Notice that. Celebrate.

Most importantly, there will be days you think you can't face this new world that you're in. Know that you can. Don't set your hopes higher than what's reachable tomorrow. Take it day by day. Don't worry about how long the GTube will be there or whether or not he'll walk. He will smile at you... Start wiggling his legs, that's what works. 

Rachel, get ready... In two weeks you're water is gonna break at home. And the 13 hours that follow will be the beginning of the most stressful, tiring, wonderful, horrible, rewarding ride you've been on yet.