Being pregnant is like hitching your best intentions and thoughts to the unknown

Story by Sammi Johnson
The journey is 40 weeks, which goes fast, and yet January seemed to have 74 days. On January 74th, I threw in the towel. I was basically 400 weeks pregnant, not 40.

It takes a newborn to regain sharpness amid the haze of fatigue, to find clarity amid the chaos. The baby’s arrival centers it all, igniting a spark of focus. I’m never more motivated to run a half marathon than post-pregnancy. I ache for the running shoes, although that wanes quickly. But other urges and habits stick.

I treasure this lesson and strive to embrace its razor-sharp importance so that it expands into all parts of my life. It’s about being mindful, self-aware and motivated, while striving for excellence in all things bigger than ourselves, to name a few. Kindness and compassion win the day.

The thought of a third child was always there, yet when it became real, it didn’t fully sink in — until about a few weeks prior to delivery. I doubted my ability to have a mindful pregnancy (again) — not my favorite pastime — and really saw future chaos as less than ideal. Yet, the universe prevailed. I was sicker, fatter, more tired and crankier than the other two combined. I may have alarmed my husband and close friends with this behavior (thanks y’all).

Yet, as we neared the big moment, I ached to know this person so much more. We were connected — it was happening — and as I crept closer to my due date, the sense of wonder was alive and well. Who are you? What are you? You’ve been this person this whole time. What should we name you?

I knew this unborn person, yet I didn’t. I didn’t even know the gender. I just begged for overall good health. Traveling down this precarious road once again, I was now older, but the sense of the unknown was alive and well. Overwhelming worry crept in every now and then. How could it not? I was pulling at the universe, grasping for all its miracles, because I knew how many things needed to line up for everything to go well.

So, we hitched our best intentions and thoughts to the unknown.

And waited.

Of course, once the baby arrives, the worry doesn’t disappear — it elevates and goes on forever. You’re never not a parent, and when they’re on the inside, it’s almost easier.

As I wrote these lines, on the day before the due date of our third baby doll, I felt at ease with a sense of calm, excitement and readiness for the challenge. I adored our new little one already. I felt in tune with my family and — can I say it? — older and wiser as number three approached.

Then the day came, and … we did it! It’s a miracle every time. Every time is different and unique — a story that is only ours. I’m in awe of newborns, always have been, and this time is no different.

We had a girl: Indy Asha Johnson. Asha is sounded out as Ahhh-sha. We might have drawn her middle name out of a hat in the minutes before leaving the hospital. And the best part is that she shares a birthday with me and our son. Now that Feb. 5 is our collective birthday, we’ll see how our middle child fares with figuring that out! We bought lotto tickets.

We’re in love. We’re healthy. Indy is so loved. She has so many adoring fans, big brothers and sisters, aunties (related or not), uncles, grandparents and well-wishers.

Thank you, universe.

Sammi is a mother, wife, business owner and marketing director at the Flathead Beacon in Kalispell. Contact her at