Reflect
The hidden guest
John leapt in the womb before either child was born: the hidden life is already real life. Your body has become a place of meeting — what Elizabeth blessed in Mary, the Church blesses in you. Let the tiredness itself be a kind of Magnificat: my soul magnifies the Lord, even lying down.
Elizabeth greeted a person no one could yet see. A father's first act of love is the same: to believe in, speak to, and plan for a child who is still hidden. Say the name you are considering out loud. Pray for the child by it. Faith begins before the face does.
Prepare
The long road
Keep the rhythm of care — the appointments, the movement, food that serves two — but refuse the cult of the perfect pregnancy. Rest without guilt; Mary stayed with Elizabeth three months. And gather your Elizabeths now: the women who will bless you, not audit you.
Build the birth plan together and learn what labor will ask of you. Quietly set the house and the finances in order — this is your hill country. Take over what drains her without being asked, and guard her rest as though it were your own.
Pray
The Magnificat
Pray the Magnificat each evening — Mary's own prayer of the expecting. Add a decade on the Visitation, offered for the child by name; and when fear rises before a scan, hand it over plainly: Mother of the hidden Christ, keep what I cannot.
Bless your wife and child each night, aloud, with a hand where the child is — a father's blessing is an office, not a sentiment. Pray the Magnificat with her, and a Memorare on the mornings when worry rides along to the appointment.