I wake to waves that make my stomach ripple and quiver with life. Good morning, baby. Thank you for letting me sleep. I lay there for a while and revel in her movements. A foot rolls against the palm of my hand and I close my eyes and try to picture what she will look like.
I hear a voice coming from the bottom of the stairs, and as I descend, I see the eager little face of my nephew while he suits up to play outside.
“No school, Auntie Tamar,” he exclaims, leading me to the door. “Count my layers!”
Together, we count eight layers of clothing. I tie a scarf around his little neck, my fingers brushing against his warm cheeks that will soon turn pink in the 18 degree weather.
We open the door and both gasp as the cold air takes our breath away. The world is white and the air glitters with the flakes that blow off the trees. My nephew rushes out. I hand Mgo and my sister-in-law their coffees and they sip them quickly, their faces disappearing behind the mist rising from their floral mugs. They continue to shovel the long driveway to make it possible for their mom and dad to join us this afternoon.
I stare out across the white in wonder. The snow is piled high and soft like the froth that sits on my cappuccino.
“Get inside,” my sister-in-law commands, staring at my stomach.
I shut the door and sip my now cold coffee. My hand is on my belly again. I nudge and she kicks back. I watch from the window and my nephew slowly settles into the snow. His skin is almost as white as the powder beneath him. He stares up at the white sky in total awe and giggles as the flakes settle onto his nose and cheeks.
And I pray that, one day, he will be wonderstruck by the love and grace of his heavenly Father.