This has been my hardest pregnancy. It’s been the hardest on my body, and really difficult for my heart in a lot of ways. I cry myself to sleep more often than not. Letting go of my fears and doubts never really happened; I’m reminded often of just how much they’re still always going to be there.

Having to put blind faith in the Lord that this baby would be okay wasn’t easy. I’m still unconvinced that this baby inside of me is truly okay and healthy and well.

I had a dream last night that Owen was born and they immediately took him away. I cried and screamed out for my baby, but like Amelia’s birth I was left childless and alone in an empty hospital room. In my dream, nurses came in and out but no one would tell me where they took him. And then what felt like hours later, they walked back in with their smiling faces and handed me a clean, bathed baby that I didn’t recognize.

I woke up crying.

And now I’m terrified to ever be separated from him.

Frankly I’m a little confused as to why, out of all the mamas on earth, baby Owen would pick me. I’m an emotional, hot mess and I’m sure it will only get worse when he’s home with our family. I’m trying so hard to keep calm & carry on (ha!) but I’ve waited so long for this little one. I was ready to have him  here—safely in my arms—yesterday. I know I’m going to be the most possessive mama to this little boy of mine and for that I truly apologize.

Maybe we can just call it being fiercely attached to him.

We have less than 13 weeks to go, he and I, before I have to share him with everyone else. I’m a little nervous but my fragile body (three kids in five years! ouch.) is already ready to get the party started. And there’s a huge part of me that agrees with it.

Baby Owen, I admire you so much for being brave and coming to earth with a crazy, emotional mama like me. I’ve mentioned before that it certainly won’t be easy living with me. But can we be best friends anyway?