Waiting To Meet You
photo by Justine Boulin
Only one more day until we meet this fourth little babe, and I'm full of excitement + fear. I wasn't sure how to capture my last days pregnant, knowing that this is the last time my body will hold a baby inside. But I knew my heart would want a photo of my first child and my last, together.
Isn't a woman's body incredible? To grow four children, to stretch and mould and bend to the will of a being inside you.
Isn't a woman's resolve remarkable? To hand a child over to heaven, to feel that break within you and then decide to chance it all again... and then again.
My first little love Lochlan, framed in a photo. His tattoo on my arm and his imprint in my bones and blood, I'll forever wonder who he would have grown into, what road map he would have taken in life. My fourth little love in my tummy, pushing and poking and rolling all day, about to come out and show us all who he/she is. I've spoke before about the push and pull of grief + love and how they muddle together like a murky drink in your soul. This photo is that... the rip of my heart holding Lochlan, and the mending of my being with every movement from within. The purple letters on my t-shirt represent being a NICU mom; a mother who stood by her child and watched + waited, and lost. But the bulge in my tummy represents the courage to keep going, try again, risk the possible shatter of my heart to gain indescribable joy. Strong as a Mother. Any mother. Full hands or empty, full heart or broken... you momma, are strong.