There's quite a bit I'd love to document about this pregnancy, and many things I want to keep sacred. Just between a mama and her children -- things I can reflect upon and share with them when they're older. When their fingers are stained with blueberries, or for a soothing story when they fall and I clean the scrapes on their knees, fasten a Band-Aid and tell them to hold on tight to mama, it'll be okay, I promise. Or when they run to their room because their crushes don't like them back, and I tell them their hearts and souls are beautiful and bigger than anything and no person or thing is worth tears on their cheeks. That they are, and always will be, enough. Brave and ethereal and always enough.
I keep these sacred moments in hand written letters to them inside a stunning cosmic journal, pages thick and edged in gold. A journal so fitting because they are indeed my universe. I have been writing these since I found out. Everything from the most loving spaces of my whole heart are etched in these pages to retrieve when they will need me.
I will share, though, what I have found to be the most precious thing I've experienced thus far. My favorite feeling. I have started to feel them. Our beautiful babies move and wiggle about and I can actually feel this. It makes time stop and I go inward, searching for them, longing for them in a delicious state of mindfulness and finding my loves in their butterfly dance. The movements are quick, in what can only be their little bodies stretching and growing, reaching and feeling -- perhaps even finding one another. Some of the sweetest moments took place at our most recent ultrasound. One of the twins arched it's back, taking a moment to stretch in a way all babies do. And then seeing them together, side-by-side, in early 3D images.
The harsh terrains of 2nd trimester hormones and constant weepiness though -- crying because I'm mad, crying because I'm happy, crying just for the sake of doing so -- are all soothed when I feel them. A bit like a catching a pastel sunset from the corner of your eye during a long drive, you forget conversation, forget where you are, and just stare through the glass. I find myself asking them, sometimes, to move for me. And when they do, it's at the most perfect moments. Just as they came, so perfectly timed, to bless our lives.
