Blooming

It is that lovely time of year in Utah when you hear the leaves underneath your feet when you're out for a walk. And you can't help but notice all the variety and color of each kind of leaf. And even though every time we are out and about I find them beautiful, I can't get over how staggering they are the next day and the next. As if I haven't seen them. And an incredible witness to creation and its variety and magnificence.

This fall world is fast blossoming to settle down into winter. This morning from the window, as I was cleaning the pan from fried eggs for the boys, I watched the peach trees shine in the morning sun, water dripping from their now naked branches. I was sad to see the yellow leaves gone. And out driving today, I noticed other trees, just recently full of glorious color, now stark against the sky.

Even while my surroundings are hinting another season, I am blooming.

I am blooming.

My little sister is blooming.

My family is blooming.

I am 33+ weeks pregnant, and my little family is blooming. My husband and I are within days of welcoming our little girl into the world and still are without a name for her. I have decided to give birth naturally, wanting to feel more in tune with my body, wanting to experience this moment-of-all-moments that women throughout the ages have gone through in bringing life into the world. I want to feel connected to them, too.

While excited about her coming, I also feel a bit of apprehension because of all the change it will entail: wondering how my boys will take it and if they will resent me (something I'm not sure I could handle right now), and not excited about the lack of sleep that inevitably comes with a new baby.

But at the same time, I had another ultrasound almost three weeks ago. My ultrasound tech surprised me by putting the ultrasound into 3D for a few minutes. I got a more defined glimpse of my baby's face. We saw that she has hair. I saw a little 3D shot of her hands and feet, her long fingers. It's amazing what kind of bonding you can feel from just a little glimpse into this little person that you can feel moving all the time, a little spirit almost ready to emerge. She is blooming.

On Saturday night we had a shower at the house for my little sister, due with a baby boy at the end of the month. She is three weeks ahead of me. Her little one is about to grace the world, and although she has already been engaged in motherhood these past months, this journey is just about to begin. I can't think of a better train to get on. The great thing about it is that, even as you leave one stage of mothering, there is always another ahead. My husband told me when we were dating that, to him, I was a flower in constant full bloom. That is how motherhood is, too. Leaving one season opens to another.

You never stop blooming.

Three of my sisters were here on Saturday as we were preparing for the shower. I love having sisters. They came and helped, making everything easy as we each took different tasks. Scott was wonderful in helping with yard prep and taking care of the boys pre-shower, and with lots of help afterward to return the house to normal. My mother ordered pizza for everyone so we wouldn't have to cook with the house all clean. Everyone went outside in the backyard to eat. After I got my plate, I headed outside as well. As I opened the door and looked down the steps, I couldn't help but notice this family of mine. My mother was close to the bottom of the steps, surrounded by grandchildren.

There we were: mother and mothers, children and grandchildren, spouses, husbands, wives, sisters, women, men, independent families and collective family.

To see this bunch of people that I love, and to think that my sisters and I with our spouses are procreating the next generation in my family, is a truly remarkable thing. These little people are our people. They belong to us.

But I have to agree with something that CJane said in this post , which I loved, a while back about mothers and sons (and I would have to argue mothers and their children in general). Her hunch was that little boys have to love some woman in their life. Their mothers become their first love before they meet their wives. But, she said, the reverse is also true. As a mother, you fall completely in love with your children and lose your heart to them.

I could so relate to that, because I have been lost on my boys since they were born. It feels like my heart has multiplied.

But that isn't to say that the moments are indefinitely easy. I have had some rough days the past couple of weeks that leave me questioning my abilities, my patience, and feeling like a lousy mother. I am convinced that every mother has these moments, though. And it is the good and the bad moments that equally bind them to me.

I feel their engravings deeper and deeper on my heart.