Our home has been calm of late. Music fills the living room as Biet reads books to her lazy dog. Gaby sips his coffee, lights Hanukkah candles, and plays with his daughter. I do a bit of cooking, a bit of writing, and a lot of lounging around. And at the end of each night, when I am ready to crash into slumber, Gaby massages shea butter onto my belly, just in case this little boy gets any ideas about leaving stretch marks on his Mama.
This baby feels BIG. My belly is tight like a drum, with a foot or an elbow or a knee constantly wiggling away inside. Braxton Hicks have made a thorough and regular appearance, pelvic pain has become a daily delight (thanks to little Mister flipping head-down and "dropping" this last week, according to my midwife), and everything feels kind of achy, kind of all of the time. Yet somehow this pregnancy still seems to be going by all too quickly for my liking.
Twenty-nine weeks, eek! The weeks are falling away faster and faster. And while I dream (daily, and nightly) about his tiny newborn squished face, and eagerly envision our home-birth, and long to meet him, I also feel like I need more time. I need to more time to hold my first born in my arms and kiss her over and over as my only child. I need more time to sit with her, and only her, in conversation and play. I need more time to prepare myself, my home, my schedule, my life, for a newborn. Eleven weeks simply does not feel like enough.
But, of course, it will be enough. I know in my heart, and from experience, that babies come into this world with all that they need. He will come into the shelter of my arms, with his own food from my bosom, and all of the love he needs from his family. I know I needn't worry about a thing.
And so instead of worrying, I am trying my best to enjoy. Twelve weeks from now, I will no longer be pregnant. And I know, that just like last time, I will miss it. It is truly a privilege to be able to carry this little baby. I relish every day of it, no matter how achy or long that day seems. We will only be a family of three for a little while longer. Soon, Biet will be reading books not to a lazy dog, but to a baby brother. Gaby will not be lighting Hanukkah candles, but swaddling an itsy bitsy new baby. And I will no longer be needing shea butter belly rubs. I will be tandem nursing and wearing a newborn and discovering all of the joy and the madness of having two littles under two.
I can sense the magnitude and the splendor of this twenty-ninth week of this pregnancy. This time, right now, with my family, in our home- this time is special.
