I sat in bed reading “Goblins in the Castle” by Bruce Coville to Ella 4, and Agatha 2. The girls listened intently, asking questions occasionally, but mostly just enjoying the story. Their eye lids fluttered and the long awaited moment arrived. Sleep. My two angels, my Baby Girl and my Sweet Little One were traveling to Nod. I could climb out of bed and take a few moments in front of the computer, guilt free.
Before I managed to hoist my ample frame off the bed, I looked across the room and saw the little cradle I put together that evening. It’s so small. I can barely remember what it was like to have a tiny baby in our home, yet sometime in the next few weeks there’d be another one.
I tried to imagine what our baby would look like curled up in the rocker beside our bed, but the image never solidified. I don’t even know if we’re having a boy or a girl. Should I imagine a blue sleeper, or a pink one? Will we have another bald baby, or one with hair? Will this baby be bigger than the girls? Who knows. Though one friend predicts a whole 2lbs larger than the girls were. I’m beginning to rethink our friendship. :p
My belly protrudes in a way it never did with the girls. My loving husband tells me I’m huge; there’s too much belly between us now. I usually give him “the look” before turning away with a hidden smile. But I have to admit, I feel the same. I am huge, and there is a lot of belly. Despite the extra weight, despite my belly having a life of it’s own, there are some days this doesn’t seem real. Ha! you must think. 36+ weeks pregnant, up 55lbs, with a baby bum in my ribs and fists on my bladder – how could it not feel real? I wonder that too.
I have a going home outfit in pink, and one in blue, I have teeny tiny baby diapers washed and ready for a teeny tiny bum. I have everything ready, but I can’t actually wrap my mind around going into labour, around having a teeny tiny little person placed on my chest and feeling that instant connection. I can’t fathom moving from being pregnant for the last time, to holding our last newborn baby in my arms.
Maybe that’s the big difference. This is our last baby. When this baby enters the bright world, one stage of life will be over, never to be revisited by me.
Is there a moment when reality hits? Will it be before or after birth? Will I fully treasure each last first moment as it happens, or will I look back in a year and wonder when that first tooth appeared, was our baby grumpy, or not?