I’m 30 weeks pregnant. How did that even happen?
With my first full-term pregnancy the minutes stretched into languid hours and I ached with anticipation to be able to say ‘I’m 20 weeks’ or ‘I’m 7 months.’ I used to squeak a few extra days into it if I was asked how far along I was, wondering if I’d get caught for saying ‘I’m 21 weeks’ when I was really only 20 weeks and 3 days.
“It’ll be different in your second pregnancy. It’ll fly by.”
Yeah right. After everything I’ve been through and all the longing to have this lovely surprise? I’m going to savour every second. I’m going to be so in tune with my belly. I’m going to be 10 weeks away from due date already?! WHAT?
Now I know that my first trimester zoomed by because I was plagued with PTSD, anxiety and I basically fretted over every normal symptom because of my previous losses. It also seemed nitro-fuelled by client deadlines and running around after my 4 year old.
Then all of a sudden it was second trimester and I was resisting maternity pants and terrified of gaining 70 lbs like I did with my first full-term. And there was a Crohn’s flare. And some hospital visits. And the first few ‘modified bed rest/activity’ requests. And then more deadlines and running around after my 4-year-old.
“How far along are you?”
My brain stutters from the math, only because I want to say ‘I’m 16 weeks.’
I still want to be near the start of this journey and not near the finish line. I love this little bump of mine. I love this wiggling bundle and the hugs and tummy kisses I get from Vee as she waits for Baby Brother. I love imagining what is going on in there.
I thought that the order to rest might create some resistance to the stubborn and swift headway that time was making. Not so.
“Are you bored? Is there anything I can do?!” Friends were so sweet when they found out I was benched, but I didn’t want distractions. I didn’t actually want the time to go faster.
Between sleep, doctors’ appointments and trying to wrap up all my clients, time continued to fly. I might have been hanging out with my feet up more often but that also didn’t stop the deadlines or being a mom to my 4 year old (even though the running around subsided for the time being).
Now almost all of my clients have been wrapped up nicely and neatly. Doctors and friends are applauding my new lifestyle of ‘less’ even though sometimes it drives me up the wall to ‘not do’. Even my 4 year old seems to understand that I just can’t run around right now and comes to snuggle me while my feet are up. We talk in hushed whispers about what happened at school, and we make up stories about princesses who own candy shops and sew dresses.
When Vee is with her dad, Cap and I try and get those few looming things off our lists but it always ends with me sleeping for hours.
I write a lot more now (one of the few stress-free things I have clearance to do), lingering on words until I am sure they are the right ones to use, hoping that somehow they capture my feelings and crystallize the moment, but time keeps passing.
“What’s Baby Brother doing in there now?”
Vee asks me almost every day now, and my belly seems to respond with bubbles and pockets of movement.
“Is he coming soon Mummy?”
“Soon, honey, but we still have time.”
She hugs me tight and puts her tiny hand on my bump. My belly shifts as if it knows she’s there and I hope that I’ve found the right formula to slow the world down just a little.
Just until I finish drinking in these last weeks and the next chapter begins.