while I'm waiting for you

Hey, baby girl...

I am 39 weeks, 4 days pregnant and we are in the final moments of waiting to meet you. Emotions are high and change is so palpable that of course, I had to sit down and write, as I do, to let things settle and get stored for safe-keeping.

I'm thinking back on this pregnancy and honestly, it was quite something. 

Growing you inch by inch seemed to inch by. Slow in part because the social aspect of society has slowed during the pandemic. I spent so many endless days just home with your sisters, taking tums to fend off heartburn, and casually growing your limbs while playing make-believe or breaking up disputes while figuring out what to make for dinner yet again and glancing at the clock to see how long until daddy came home. I hardly wore make up. Hardly left the house. Hardly wore real clothes. 

Yet, even as the days blended together and dragged on and the overall "covid pregnancy" sentiment lingered, this pregnancy was by far the most eventful. It will be marked forever by significant life happenings stacked on top of each other that leave me feeling very "at home" with you inside my belly. Like enough has happened that we've just become a little team, me and you, weathering it together. As if the shared experience that grew me -- as I grew you -- bonded us. 

I'll always be thankful that I had you - close to my heart - during the last 9 months. 

We opened a coffee shop not long after we learned about you. It feels like the shop has been part of us much longer than the time it takes to grow a baby and I marvel that I've been pregnant with you the whole time! I joke with your dad that I'll finally be able to enjoy owning a coffee shop once I no longer get heartburn after the first sip (thanks for that).  Owning a business has been an interesting adjustment and we're still learning the balance of it all.

File under covid pregnancy: I went to all my OB appointments and ultrasounds alone, which made the visits seem longer and more frequent and never-ending. I saw you for the first time with your Dad on FaceTime and it was strange and sad. Holding the phone up, we shared a moment while he tried to hush your big sisters in the background to hear your heartbeat, squinting to try and catch all the curves and angles of your tiny frame. I asked the technician to print me photos, even though they've switched to digital, and she wrote "hi Darcie and Banks!" on the one with your perfect little profile. 

I got covid while pregnant around Christmas time. We missed out on so many holiday outings, but we sure did watch a lot of cheesy Christmas movies. Seems like ages ago, but I tell you what not being able to smell or taste anything while also experiencing intense food cravings was definitely Destiny Rothwell at one of her lowest points. Sorry for who I was then. It was a dark time. 

I watched my sister get married on a zoom call. Her in Australia saying yes to her forever, us in Virginia crowding around a tiny phone screen asking her to twirl around in her princess dress hours before the ceremony -- tears flowing because we knew it was the extent of "getting ready" with the bride. We celebrated BIG by hosting a family watch party complete with the big screen, catering, and wedding cake, but that bittersweet feeling was still strange.

Then your papaw had a massive heart attack and cardiac arrest during my third trimester. For a week straight while waiting on his recovery and wondering what life would look like, I would just rub my belly and tell you (but mostly myself) that everything was going to be okay and you were going to know him. He loves his grandkids so well and I am so thankful for the miracle of more time with him. It is a gift for you that I never want you to take for granted. 

But glory to God, you are coming to family still in tact. It's been a few wild months, but you have been born into a season of faith. We've weathered storms, waited, prayed, risked, worked, paved, and prepared. We have trusted God and listened to his leading and walked through doors only he could have opened. YOU are the gift we are now ready to receive...I can't wait to welcome you into this ferocious & crazy & beautiful world. 

baby prep, bunk beds, and mini vans.

We are all preparing for your arrival in our own way.

Dad is upgrading our coffee pot (priorities), putting together baby gear to make our life more functional, ordering lots of gadgets from Amazon, cooking for us (as always, you'll see), and of course doing normal things like dusting ceiling fans and cleaning toilets and filling an entire trunk of stuff for goodwill (these may have been my ideas....) 

Darcie is asking lots of questions and checking in on me regularly. Does the baby like spicy food? Does the baby have manners yet? Is the baby kicking you hard? Is the baby making you tired? She has dubbed herself the "little mama" and promises to help take care of you. I actually don't doubt her. You'll learn not to doubt Darcie James. 

Banks is testing everything out for you. Currently your swing and bassinet are occupied with her baby dolls. Your "HopHop" stuffed bunny is getting some extra love, too. And your pacifiers have almost gone missing on a few occasions from a very territorial 22 month-old.

Mama is waddling around ensuring home will be your happy place. You're on my mind every moment. It races, envisioning your face, and goes from task to task in a valiant effort to create intentional corners and drawers and spaces for you to occupy in our home. You'll be one of us. Your presence will change us and better us. I want you to take up space here and be known. 

We each wonder what another little girl will be like here. Another head of hair for bows. Another recipient of hand-me-downs. More pink, more Frozen, more pigtails, more drama. Another future resident of the babe cave bedroom. Another member of the Rothwell Sisterhood. 

But yet...your own person. Your own unique YOU. I can hardly wait to see who you favor, how you're different, and how you'll make your own splash. You have always been meant for us. And we're all eager to see you jump in and join. 

Darcie reminds us almost daily how your arrival will impact her. Top on her list is moving to the top bunk so Banks can move to the bottom and you can move to the crib (she's got it all worked out), and next up is moving to the backseat of the van. Oh yeah, we bought a mini van. You, my sweet girl, are what pushed me over the edge into a "mini van mom." Although, I will mostly blame your Dad. He was very persuasive on your behalf. It's still settling in for me, but your Dad is straight up living the dream and I guarantee we'll have some pretty epic adventures in pretty epic places if he has anything to say about it. Here's to Rothwell road trips! 

Back to the bunk bed. That was another big discussion between mom & dad. We got it when Banks was just a baby. It actually arrived in the mail the week before the pandemic hit and we set it up our first week of quarantine. I tried to convince Ben that we needed those cute little minimalist toddler beds, but he wanted function. He wanted practicality. A huge bunkbed that sleeps three kids. And who knew...it's going to do exactly that one day in the near future. 

You can come now. Your family can't wait to meet you. 

Letter to my girls from 2020

Dear Darcie & Banks,

Happy new year, baby girls. 

And boy, aren't we happy to have made it through this one.  

What a wild, whirlwind, keep-you-guessing, leave-you-breathless year 2020 proved to be. You'll read so much about it in your history books, but I want you to know from my heart to yours: this year was truly a gift to live because nearly every waking moment was spent with you. Every. waking. moment.

I won't lie and say there weren't rough spots. Moments where your dad's and my emotional, physical, mental strength reserve tanks were running on near empty. Moments where we cried over what we saw on the news or sat up late into the night talking about what in the world was happening in our world. Moments where we had to let go of things we hold dear or throw our hands in the air at a loss for how to get through. Feeling stuck, even frozen in time, which resulted in bickering and debating and challenging and making up and saying sorry.  I remember moments of saying no to worry and yes to trusting God. And then moments where the stillness seemed to swallow us. 

Yes. The price of this pandemic has taken its toll on everyone. Everyone has felt its effects and navigated its damage. Everyone has had to process and grieve in their own way. 

But somewhere in the middle, specifically in mid-April as the flowers bloomed and spring brought fresh life, I was reminded to be gentle with myself even in the struggle. Because growth is there. And when you power through with grit, you get to see the growth. So I resolved to stop resisting stillness. Stop fighting the gift of slowing, listening, and learning. Loosening my grip meant readjusting goals, plans, trips, birthdays, and my overall outlook on life. 

But my pandemic practice took form and eventually became my mantra. Pause, ponder, & pray. So much was uncertain this year, but there were certain GIFTS in the midst of it all and certainly a God above it all. Open ears and heart. Stop and savor the present. Lean into emotions. And make prayer my go-to, not my last resort. I started praying more over your lives. Over your dad. Over our family and friends and friends of friends. Over our next steps and business plans and dreams and finances. I started believing for provision and favor. I started the shift in my perspective. Pause. Ponder. Pray. 

In January of 2020, one year ago, I decided to start a gratitude journal. I had no idea what was coming. Or to what extent my gratitude would be tested. It was a bit of a whim. I wanted to get back to writing things down, but I knew I couldn't consistently keep up with anything too commitment heavy. And while I used to keep journals, I haven't in years. But I felt a nudge to be acutely aware of my abundance going into 2020. To write down the gifts and help center myself in the ebbs and flows of life. And of course, now I know why. 

One year later. I've learned to count my blessings instead of counting my losses. I enjoy adding up gifts instead of adding up risks. I continually purpose to choose prayer instead of panic. And I focus on delighting in the little things within my home instead of dreading the big things out there in the world. 

The best beauty exists and is encapsulated within our little home. Home became everything. And you, Darcie and Banks, were everything to us. There was quiet in the world. All kinds of delicious quiet. 

And quiet became our friend. Stillness our everyday rhythm. Patience became our practice. Contentment became our joy. Your amazing dad helped me get through. I leaned on him at the end (and during every waking moment, let's be honest) of my every day. On days when I felt down, he had that extra pep in his step to make another day another adventure with you girls. He and I became a team. We worked together and picked up the slack for one another. We learned how to co-parent two little toddlers. And we made it.

Along the way, we also saw how amazing our little toddlers actually are.

You were our perpetual bright spot. Our shining light. The glue that stuck us all together. Your smiles when we needed them, bouncy personalities that snapped us from the couch into dance parties, and eager eyes full of unconditional love. You didn't let the wear & tear of 2020 wear you down. In fact, you were oblivious to the weight of this year and instead, helped us as mom & dad weather it with grace. Because we had you. You were resilient, optimistic, and flexible. The world asked children to do hard things this year. And I'm so proud we all made it together. I realized how much FUN we're capable of having every single day for like an entire year. The four of us. We did it. 

There is peace knowing that if all material goods or comforts were stripped away, it would still be okay because my heart remains here with you. And I am happy.  

And you are happy. And that's what matters. 

Your tiny lives. The tiny balls of energy that constantly brought us back to laughter, wonder, tickles, routine, play, teething, and teaching one another how to fully love life -- amidst a pandemic & all. 

Cheers to 2021. To a hopeful future, a new little sister, travel & parties & playgrounds & a fresh start. And yet still protecting that stillness...sacredly shared between us. 

I love you,

Mama