It’s quiet.

Baby is sleeping. M is out running errands. And I can’t figure out how to work the speakers.

But the quiet is nice. The quiet is something I have not had much of lately. I can hear the static of the baby monitor. I can hear the chirps of birds outside. And the tick of the clock in the kitchen.

These are the sounds of quiet.

These are the sounds of peace.

And this new little once must feel it too. Because suddenly there is kicking. Real kicking. Noticeable. The kind that reaches the hand I’ve placed on belly. Almost as if to say, “I know you’ve been busy, mama. But now it’s quiet and this feels like our time. Don’t forget, I’m still here.”

And I don’t forget.

But sometimes, I don’t remember.

When pregnant with Baby, everything was about her. I paused to marvel at each kick and I spent hours upon hours reading and daydreaming about the new life we had created.

This has not been, thus far, a daydreaming kind of pregnancy.

But now we have moved. Now we have planned out where Baby will go to school in the Fall.  Now we have achieved the big things we set out to achieve this year.

Now I am halfway through. Now I feel like the end is oh so close. Now I want to pause and marvel. Now I want to enjoy this time that feels so long but is so incredibly fleeting.

Now, let the daydreaming begin.


linking up with Heather to Just Write.


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