Four more weeks and the anticipation is reaching an all time high. I’ve run out of project “to-do’s”, but the mailman just dropped off a huge box of fabric and I nearly squealed when I opened the door.
I had an ultrasound last week and although Mayby was head down with my placenta in front, we were able to catch a small glimpse of her face. The tech printed off three pictures for me: one of her heartbeat, one of her little fingers covering her eyes, and a small capture of her face. Really all that you can see of her face is the lower part of her nose and her lips, but it is enough. I catch myself stopping to look at it every time I walk past it in a room. Each time I examine it, I feel a little rush of love that grows stronger each time. It is my only link to her right now, but it is enough.
I don’t remember the pregnancy anxiety being this strong with the other two. I think it’s because five and a half years into motherhood, I’ve come to know so many tragic stories, their circle growing closer and closer into mine. After she is born, I will worry over her breathing, constantly checking and reassuring at the sound. But right now it is her kicking that is important and my only indication that she is okay. Remembering to check for that, trying to keep up with the counts, wondering if I should be concerned when she has a slower day, that’s where the worry grows with the third.
Two of the girls in my MOPS group have had their babies and brought them to our meeting yesterday. Both weighed around 6 pounds and all I could think was, “that’s probably how big my baby is right now.”
My emotions are extremely and embarrassingly quick at the moment. I can cue up tears in a second. Laughter and sorrow are so closely linked right now that they often inappropriately bleed into one another. Last night at dinner, N was cracking me up with joke after joke, and the girls were joining in on the fun. I was embarrassed at how much I was laughing and how I couldn’t reign it in, even after the humor should have subsided. MG looked at me and said, “it looks like you’re crying.” It was true; I had tears welling up in my eyes from the laughter. But the way she said it, in a concerned and sensitive way, made me start really crying. In about three seconds, I was sending her off to kindergarten and missing her presence and I almost had to leave the room for fear of having to explain myself for passionately sobbing.
Bea has been very affectionate lately, wanting to sit on me often and be next to me when possible. I wonder how much I will be able to indulge her after Mayby’s arrival and that makes me cry a little bit for her. She’s been the baby for nearly three years and now she is about to be replaced. God blessed her with an even-keeled personality and I think she will take it in stride.
MG’s playroom is a short flight upstairs from my sewing room. We can see each other and hear each other during our mutual work time but we’ve grown so comfortable with each other’s presence that we don’t disturb one another. While I kneel on the floor, cutting my patterns and shuffling pins, she sits in her room, acting out her stories. All of her stories involve princess characters, but each time the storyline is different. Some of it is inspired, other parts are from her own imagination. She also speaks as the narrator, “‘Don’t go that way, Aurora!’, Belle said.” I pretend that I don’t listen, but I don’t think she minds much yet.
I wish I could sew all afternoon while the girls nap. Truthfully, I can get a good hour in before my abdominal muscles begin to strain from bending forward so much and my back begins to ache from not sitting in a proper chair. My stomach feels like an overfull water balloon and I sometimes worry that if I keel forward too suddenly, it will just pop. N often comes home to me, a slug on the couch, extending my back over pillows in an effort to stretch out the muscles that are carrying all of the weight right now.
Our family is changing again. Four more weeks to capture these parts of it before they are changed for good. My heart and mind are taking it all in for the very last time. I feel it, the girls, I think feel it, and as much as we do to prepare for it, and talk about it, we don’t exactly know what we are coming into. That is both really thrilling and really scary. But we are ready.