Today Is My Due Date, But It's Not My Story To Write


My son, these are your last few days on the inside.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I’ve been praying away the hours, hoping that every cramp and contraction signalled that you were about to make your grand entrance.  I’ve been wishing away the days, trying to speed things up.  I’ve Googled too much.  I’ve complained too much.  Every morning I wake up, shocked that I am still pregnant.  Today marks 40 weeks.  40 weeks that you have been in my belly, 40 weeks that I have allowed myself to dream of you.  I’ve wanted you for so long, and cried for you for many more than 40 weeks before you finally found your way to us.

May 12th.  My actual due date.  When your brother’s due date finally arrived, he was already here.  Safely in our arms.  We never had to wonder.  I never had to eat a cheeseburger with pineapple and spicy teriyaki sauce, an order of onion rings, a root beer, and a late night snack of strawberry shortcake.  But tonight I did.

This is a whole new world for me.  And I’m a little afraid.

Then something shifted today.  I turned the music up loud while I did the dishes.  I forced myself to participate in life.  I promised Max that we would go out for dinner as a family.  I hauled my enormous self out to the pool and put my feet in, as Sean and Max floated by in their new raft.  And I realized….

You will be here when you’re ready.

Write your own story.

Your beginning is yours.  You decide your birthday.  You tell me when you’re ready to make your transition into this big, beautiful world.

Write your own story.

You get to introduce yourself to us.  You pave the way.  Show your own unique temperament.  Challenge us with everything that is different about you.  Distinguish yourself in a way that defines your name, your personality, your destiny.

Write your own story.

Will you be a reader?  An athlete?  An introvert?  A boy who likes to snuggle?  Will you dance when you hear music, or lose yourself in building elaborate cities with Legos?  Will you nap?  Will you run?  Will your laughter outweigh your tears?  Will you fit?  Will you struggle?  Will you push yourself to fly?  I don’t know you now, but I will spend every moment of my life learning you, starting today.

Write your own story.

I love you and your brother with every ounce of my soul.  My job is to guide you through the crazy that is life, the unexpected, the hard, the hard-won.  My sweet, independent boys.  My two sons, who I can only gently guide as you show the world who you are meant to be.  I will stand back and pray for grace, as you unveil who you are.

Write your own story.

Your elbow sculpts a castle from the inside of my belly.  I imagine that you are yawning and unfurling your strong legs, as the skin that’s stretched taut across my stomach accommodates you for the last few days.  I put my hand where your tiny back must be, and say a prayer for your safe arrival.  I am ready, but the words are not mine to write.  I will love you into this world.  I will laugh you into my arms.  I will wait, and hope, and dream, for as long as it takes.  Until you are ready.

Write your own story.


All pictures compliments of Lissymack Photography

Kim Simon is a Bay Area writer and mother, who can be found telling the truth about motherhood at

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