This morning Dadda and I went to the doctor for our Bean 38-week check-up. All is well with The Bean, who has decided to hang in for another few hours, days, weeks???? We'll see. He is healthy, gaining weight every day, with an incredibly strong heartbeat. All comforting news for a Momma who is hyper-sensitive, hyper-worried.
After the appointment, as we were walking down the medical building's hallway, Dadda and I ran into a grandmother playing with her 2-year old grandson. He was wearing a fantastic, bright green t-shirt with a navy pinstripe men's tie drawn on the front. Very dapper. With a mop of dark hair and big brown eyes, he was playing his own little peek-a-boo game behind grandma's back.
Momma's pregnancy waddle must have grabbed his attention, because his game stopped short and his little boy attention span focused on Momma and Dadda. A little smile spread on his face, he stared straight at me and declared, "Momma!"
And my heart broke into ten million pieces.
His grandmother laughed and said, "No, silly! That's not your Momma!"
We all grinned at each other, I told him I loved his t-shirt, and we went our separate ways. A few minutes later, I finally admitted to Dadda how I wish I'd had that moment with you, Peanut. At 16.5 months, you were calling me Momma but I never got to have "that moment." You know, the moment where you catch sight of me across the room and call out "MOMMA!" with excitement. In my dreams of meeting you in heaven, it's the first interaction we have...you and I seeing each other across a field - "Momma! "Peanut!" - running and hugging, never ever letting go.
I cling to that dream, and to the hope of hearing your little brother say that word to me. Maybe it's silly, how much importance I place on this moment, this word. But, I know in my heart I will hear you say it, in this world or the next. Until then, just know how much I love you, Peanut. To the moon and back!