As of today, I’m 37 weeks and five days pregnant, and I have written here only a handful of times, much to my dismay. I haven’t written much anywhere. It seems the weeks and months have slipped by, and suddenly, here I am, nearing the finish line. For much of this pregnancy there have been nearly whole days when I have practically forgotten that I’m pregnant–save for the discomforts–and even now I sometimes lose myself in my thoughts so much that I forget to fully appreciate these moments of being so very full and ripe with this baby.
Tiny Dancer is doing brilliantly so far. Unlike her older brother, she is measuring right on track every week, which makes me wonder if she might be a normal-sized baby (BG was a hefty 9 lb 15 oz and consistently measured a couple of weeks ahead). We took a quick peak at her at our 35 week appointment and learned (as I had suspected) that she is decidedly head down and beginning to push her way into my pelvis. Our doctor even pointed out that she’s got a bit of hair.
And me? Well, I’m in pain. A lot of pain. My hips and lower back have been a wreck this whole pregnancy. I’ve been plagued with sciatica, and now that old familiar pubic bone separation pain has kicked in. It makes life challenging; it makes me whiny and grumpy. I can’t turn over in bed without strategizing for ten minutes (and wondering how I can get my hands on a small crane). Also, I waddle. I look like a penguin. It’s unsettling. But I’m wonderfully full of a wiggly, hiccpuing, kicking baby, and somehow that knowledge makes even my terrible awkwardness okay.
I’m trying to soak this up. It’s most likely the last time I’ll be pregnant, and I am trying to make certain I don’t look back on this time and wonder where it went. I want to remember what it’s like to grow this child.
We’ve done lovely things to celebrate this pregnancy like creating a belly cast bowl, having a magical photo shoot, attending and hosting baby showers and brunches. My wife draws on my belly regularly, snuggles up to it, kisses it. We gaze together at its changing shape, at the knees and feet that move their way across its giant expanse. I try to appreciate the singular feeling of my baby growing and moving and changing inside me where she is safe, and I work to connect with this little person who will soon be responsible for sleepless nights and big, big love.
I’m excited, yes, but I’m still hoping for a couple of weeks to savor these last few moments of anticipation before life changes completely. I hate that I’m used to life without a child again, but I am in some ways, and in some ways, I very much welcome the rhythm she will bring back to our lives, even if that does mean fatigue. J and I regularly put in requests that she be a good sleeper, that she give me an easy labor. More than anything, we want her to be herself. And healthy. Really, really healthy.
37 weeks and five days. We’re nearly there. We’re nearly moms again.