In the quiet embrace of solitude, I recently found myself drawn back to memories of my last pregnancy. The morning light filtered gently through the curtains, a serene backdrop to the whirlwind of emotions and experiences that unfolded during those final days.

Amidst battles with insomnia, I sought solace in the depths of the night, where prayers whispered into the darkness mingled with the rhythm of my unborn child's movements. Each kick, each squirm, each gentle roll served as a silent conversation between mother and baby, a language of love spoken in the quietude of the night.

My body, mind, and soul found sanctuary in the nocturnal hours. Even now, the night remains my sanctuary, a time when the world is draped in silence, and creativity dances freely in the shadows. It's a sacred space where inspiration flourishes, where thoughts flow unhindered by the clamor of daytime distractions.

In the stillness of the dark, peace descends like a comforting blanket, wrapping me in its embrace. Here, amidst the silence, clarity emerges, and I find myself able to listen to the whispers of my heart without the cacophony of the outside world drowning them out.

As I look back on those precious moments, the memories come flooding back with vivid clarity. Each sleepless night, each whispered prayer, each tender moment shared with my unborn child, etched into the tapestry of my soul, a testament to the beauty of the space in-between. I wanted to share something I wrote about this sacred space.

This is the space of in-between.

The initial phases of the hormonal shift occurring towards the culmination of pregnancy are rich with significance and worthy of deeper exploration; one characterized by a kaleidoscope of emotions and physical sensations.

Insomnia becomes a nightly companion, its presence a testament to the body's readiness for the impending journey. Amidst the sleepless nights, there arises an almost surreal euphoria, mingling with overwhelming emotional releases and the unpredictable rollercoaster of mood swings. It's a time when even the most mundane tasks can feel like daunting challenges, leaving one feeling as though they're juggling too many balls at once.

As the body gradually prepares for birth, subtle twinges and sensations serve as reminders of the imminent arrival of the little one. Yet, nestled snugly within, the babe remains, cocooned in warmth and safety. Anticipating a February arrival, I find solace in the thought of time's gentle passage, even as it slips through our fingers like grains of sand.

But this liminal space, this in-between stage, demands a profound level of surrender. It beckons us into a spiritual odyssey, where patience and grace become our guiding lights. It's a necessary juncture, a physiological and emotional threshold that demands acknowledgment and reverence.

Amidst the silent and unseen transformation unfolding within, I find solace in the divine design of this process. Even when unseen by my conscious mind, I trust in the wisdom of the Creator. And so, I surrender. I surrender to the midnight baths infused with prayer and worship, to the moments of vulnerability where tears flow freely upon my husband's shoulder.

For this time of in-between is not merely about the birth of a baby; it heralds the dawn of a new life, a new family, a new dynamic. It's a threshold between two worlds, pregnant with the promise of endless possibilities and untold adventures.

Yes, this time of in-between is sacred. It's a whispered prayer, a silent vow, a gentle embrace that cradles us as we stand on the precipice of transformation.

Stay Wild & Free,
-Brandy

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