Three months ago, there was a tiny burst of light, and you came into this world, our lives, our hearts and my womb.

So small was the tiny dance of light that I didn’t see it. You slipped into this world with such clear, pure energy that I didn’t feel you. I was dreaming about moving back home to our heartlands, and wondering what next to create.

Your daddy knew though. His guides told him you had come, and he held this little soft knowing in the smile crinkles by his eyes, and the slight upturn of his mouth, and the glow of his blue eyes. You too will come to know and love these little signs he does.

It took me until five weeks to know you were here. After some encouraging from your papa, we bought our first home pregnancy test. You appeared in an instant on it, and tears sprung into my eyes. My first thought was:

They are here. My child has finally come for me.

You see, I’ve known about you for ten years or more now. I’ve felt your sweet presence by my side often, and I glow inside knowing about the child that was to come through me. You’ve always been a part of my life, and my heart, for as long as I can remember.

And now you are here, my darling.

I want you to know that you are my teacher already. That you are already a gift in our lives. That no matter what, you are loved and adored just as you are.

I want you to know that from the moment we knew of you, you have been embraced into this big, beautiful family of ours.

Your grandmama was the first one to know about you. I called her in tears, and she was driving her car. She pulled over, and I cried “Mama… what do I do?”

And she said “Sweetie? What’s happening? Are you pregnant?”

“No, Mama.”

“What is it then?”

“Well I took a pregnancy test, and it said yes. What do I do?”

And she sighed happily, and she laughed, and she cried, and she said:

“Well darling, that means you are pregnant.”

“What do I do from here? What do you do when you are pregnant???”

This pregnancy thing, now it was finally here, was a land I’d never been in before, and I was so worried that I didn’t know how to journey into it.

“Well sweetie… you don’t need to do anything right now. Just enjoy it.”

And she cried happy tears some more, and so did I.

Then I told your grandaddy about it, and he – the big, wild bushman he is – who loves grandchildren like they are the jewels of the earth and sky – he couldn’t talk for a few days.

Then your daddy told his ma and pa about you.

And so on, and on, the ripples of the news of you kept going, moving with love into the world.

I want you to know that the first trimester of pregnancy can be a huge, big journey. I was so sick that I would often call your grandmama or my sweet friend Sone in tears. Life was like being on a very ocean-swept boat for a while. I spent so much time being still, staring at my hands, lying on the sun lounge outside inhaling breaths of air. Maybe I needed this enforced cave-time of solitude to give you some space and stillness to make your home inside me. I became like an instinctive wolf, nose quivering, entirely intune with and living inside my body. My body became my world. And inside my world, a nest for you was made.

I want you to know that it’s okay if your courage ever leaves you. You will be surrounded by people who know you, and love you, and believe in you… who will sit with you until your courage returns.

In the last eight weeks, I have learned again and again about having Faith and Trust. I accepted that this pregnancy might end with you being born in this world, and that it might also be a “just popping in to say hello and see you soon!” pregnancy. I had Faith that either journey was perfect, and that whatever we were given was needed, and the right thing for us.

Lately I’ve been learning even more that Faith is knowing that everything will be okay no matter what happens. I have Faith that Great Spirit is around us, loving us and helping us. I have Faith that we will be given what we need when we need it.

Faith, inexplicably, has grown from a seedling in my life into a large, strong oak with thick, delicious bark and wide green leaves. It has become a shelter for me, and a trunk to hold to when the winds of change swill around me.

Everything will be okay, everything will be okay, everything will be okay.

And most of all, I want you to know that as you have been my teacher, I will endeavour, with your daddy, and our tribe, to be the best teacher, guide and nurturer of you that you need. I promise that we will love you for your gifts, and your lessons. I promise that we will embrace and celebrate the beauty and soul you are born with. I promise that we will do our ding-dang-darndest to help you remember just how loved, cherished and divine you are. Just as you are, right now.

I love you with everything.

Happy three months, my darling.

love,

Mama