As I sit here with my feet up, there is a party happening in my belly. And for once it is not the result of my indulging in some decadent recipe found during my daily trolling of the food blogs.
I am very pleased to announce, to those of you who have not yet heard our good news, that our family is waiting. We are waiting for a lot of things. We are waiting still for kindergarten. 6 more days, six-year-old WJ will proudly tell you if you ask. We are waiting for our annual family Labor Day weekend getaway. All of us look forward to a day at the pool. We are waiting to soundly have an understanding of what it means to take life slow. We make progress here and then forget a lesson or two.
But it is with the most joy and hope that we are waiting to meet in earnest the baby who is, as I type, getting down-you might say-at her own personal dance party that can be found just above my bladder and just below my rib cage. I am beginning the eighth month of this pregnancy and our daughter offers at every possible opportunity a reassurance of her vitality and strength.
Praise be. It is good to wait.