Just a Flutter

As I sat on the couch last Tuesday night, adjusting to an empty house from a husband on the road, eating grilled cheese and an entire can of Chef Boyardee ravioli while singing along to Glee, an unfamiliar but welcome flutter in my stomach startled me.  I waited. And I felt it again. She kicked.

It is such a surreal realization to finally have contact with this little lady I've been growing for five months. She hears me now, knows the tone and rhythm of my voice, the calming reassurance of my hand on my stomach, and is apparently a Gleek in the making. She is only the length of a banana right now, but each day she grows stronger, gains coordination, develops into the person we will welcome into this world in March. Will those little legs be dancing like her Aunt Mallory or playing basketball like her Daddy? Or will she surprise us all?

I spend my days and nights talking to my daughter and wondering who she will be, knowing that I will love her no matter what. We all enter this world as a blank canvas. Shaped by genetics and surroundings, we somehow, some way, become individuals with our own ideals, our own goals, our own moral compass. It floors me to think of the girl she will be and the woman she will become and the life she will build for herself. Our job is to provide the right tools for her journey.

I may feel just a flutter, but that tiny tiny kick packs quite a punch.