I find myself doing all the things I did when I was expecting our boys. Cleaning. Preparing. Painting. Making room. I’m taking stock of the things we have and the things we need. I’m nesting. While I was pregnant with the boys I would look at my stomach and know that soon my baby would come. I would talk to them and sing songs. I remember feeling them move and kick. I dreamed of what they would look like. Of course, knowing they would be a mix of Kolby and me.

This time it’s so different for all the obvious reasons. I won’t carry our son or daughter. I won’t be able to sing to her or tell her of how she is being wonderfully made by a God who has known her before time ever began. She won’t hear my heart beat or my voice. I won’t be the one who will shelter her and keep her safe. So now I pray and I ask you to pray that God will speak to her and whisper to her all the awesome stories of His love. I pray that she hears His voice. That she would even now know His presence. That He would carry her. Protect her. Keep her safe.

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