I am pregnant with my second child. The journey is almost to an end. Almost 37 weeks. I don’t know what is at the other side of it. Hopefully a happy and healthy mom and baby and big brother. In sha Allah khair. But in my heart, I am already mourning the loss of my pregnant state. I love being pregnant. I loved being pregnant with my first and would love to keep this second one inside me if I wasn’t afraid it will get too difficult to actually birth this child. I don’t like the nausea, the smell sensitivity, the back pain but I sure love the feeling of growing a tiny human inside me. Labor and delivery aren’t dreams either but, to me, breastfeeding is harder than that.
I love this baby. As I do the older one. And I can’t wait to meet the masterpiece God has created in my womb this time but in a way, as long as I can keep the baby in my womb, I can protect and keep safe. When out in the world, I cannot. And the world can be cruel. Without regards to one’s age or ability. And the ones most cruel are often the ones who are the closest, avowed to protect and serve. Or at least that’s true in the case of my children which makes my heart ache for them. Hence, my desire to keep this little one sheltered in my womb.
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