The tiny frilly dresses are hung in the closet. The flowery onesies are washed and folded. The tiny pink socks are tucked away in their drawer. The diapers are sorted. The baby swings and soothers are assembled. The bottles are sterilized and stored.
And now we wait.
As the impulse to nest fades and my energy levels wane, the anxious anticipation of meeting our little wildflower grows stronger and stronger.
I’ve never had patience. It’s the fruit of the spirit I most struggle with. But nothing prepared me for the impatience of waiting for something that means as much to me as my daughter does. As her little kicks and flutters fill my belly, her future fills my mind. She’s all I think about, day and night. What will she look like? What will she be like? Will she have her daddy’s dimples? What will she be when she grows up? On and on and on…into the wee hours of the morning I think about this little girl and practice patience like I never have before.
The Lord has taught me a thing or two about patience in these final, uncomfortable days of waiting. Romans 12:12 runs through my mind over and over as I lay awake each night:
“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, and faithful in prayer.”