Julia Harrell

In 9 weeks (or maybe just 8, if he or she follows in your footsteps), your baby brother or sister will be born. In the “excitement” of moving, renovating a house, selling it, buying a new house, and moving again, I keep forgetting that we’ll be meeting this new person so soon. My due date is more of a mental deadline for when I MUST be moved and unpacked and sorted out and have food in the freezer.


It hit me the other day; we are adding another person to our family. In just a few weeks, I’ll be snuggling a brand new little one, just like I was snuggling newborn you almost two years ago. I know it’s trite, but I can’t believe how fast it goes. Yesterday, you were my little 7-pound burrito, snuggled up in my arms. Now your feet stink and you tell me, “Nope. Nuh-uh. No!” fifty times a day.







If I had known you were a boy before you born, I would have worried that I wouldn’t bond as closely to a little boy as I would have to a girl. Obviously, I’m an idiot. You are my sidekick, my little buddy, my shadow, and my heart. This morning at the farmer’s market, you climbed up on the bench next to me with your Belgian street waffle, and showed me every interesting thing you saw. Jeeps, dogs, red trucks, white trucks, babies, girls, tents, and big sticks. You jumped down and danced for me, and then pretended to run into the street just to see how fast your very pregnant mother can move.  I wondered what a morning like this would look like when our new baby is born. Will you be snuggled up next to me on the bench while the baby nurses? (Oh please God, don’t run into the street while I’m trapped under a nursing baby.) Will you still like to “race” while we hold hands? Will you still demand, “Uppy, Mama!” when you get tired? Or will you decide that Mama’s too busy with the baby and you only want Daddy now?



In the last week, it has really begun to hit me that we are having a baby. Soon. In two months. I am so thrilled for you to have a sibling, the best gift I could ever give you. We hope we give you more siblings, too. But I’m also savoring these last weeks of our little family of three. Of our first baby, who made us parents, being the center of our whole world. After you were born, I thought that future pregnancies would drag by, taking forever, because now I know how amazing being a mother is, I know how much joy my sweet little one brings me, and how would I ever be able to wait for the next to arrive? And that’s partly true. But this pregnancy has actually flown by, and not just because we’ve been in a chaotic state of in-between and upheaval the whole time. Somehow, at the same time that I am longing to meet our new baby and see you become a big brother, I am desperately trying to cling to and memorize these last days of you being my baby. I know that when your brother or sister is born, you will seem to have grown bigger, older, and more mature instantly. As much as I rejoice over the gift of your baby brother or sister, I am mourning the loss of Baby Will, who will become Big Brother Will, overnight. I am so grateful that you are mine, and that you made me a mother, and our family a family.