I navigate the curve of the highway on my morning commute and my mind wanders. Will my growing belly eventually reach the steering wheel of my little Ford Escort? My eyes wander upward into the rearview mirror. I pretend I am checking on a little one quietly occupied in his car seat and tiny bubbles of elation float within me. I am apprehensive to fully commit to my excitement, lest any problems may arise. I give myself that moment, however, and I don’t realize how my life would forever be changed.
This is the month celebrating motherhood. It’s celebrating the trials of pregnancy and birth and of realizing a bond I could never have even imagined. Of the sleepless nights and the 2 a.m. flu-induced laundry load. It’s mother and child communicating without language.