I promised myself that I would enjoy this pregnancy. I would document every kick, hiccup, tickle, and bump. I would embrace the sleepless nights and always remember that mint tea made you wiggle, and if you'd been too quiet during the afternoon, a solid Justin Timberlake jam would get you hopping on the drive home.
In reality? I documented nothing. The past 39-ish weeks have passed in a flurry of your siblings' soccer games, piano lessons, swim practices, and endless evenings of homework. You've simply been along for the ride. It's a good thing we bought that fancy jogging stroller this time around; I have a feeling you'll spend many days just rolling along for the ride.
I thought of a million things I'd say to you if only you could understand. Yesterday, I drove your brother and sister to school, a rarity. Most days your daddy gets them across town before the bell rings. They're excited. Well, your brother is excited. He squeals and giggles and hugs my belly whenever he gets a chance. In fact, he's probably felt your kicks more than anyone but me; he believes you're communicating with him when you kick at his cheeks resting on my tummy. Maybe you are. Your sister is a little more worried. She doesn't want to change poopy diapers, but I think she's more worried that you'll take her spot in mommy's heart. You won't. You'll have your own special spot. On the drive, they talked about how they'd snuggle you and make you giggle and pet your head. "Remember," I reminded, "Even though she's little, she's still a person."
"Oh!" shouted your sister. (Her voice is kind of unique, but you probably already know that.). "So like sometimes, she might cry because she doesn't have words but she's annoyed." Exactly. In about 36 hours, sounds will be much louder for you; rooms will be brighter; textures will change on your skin. It's a whole new world out here, little one.
And here's the thing: sometimes this world isn't kind, or pretty, or pleasant. Sometimes, you'll look for your place in it, and your place will seem to disappear. Some days, your stockings will creep down around your knees; the waistband of your skirt will dig into your side just enough to remind you that cupcakes aren't always a good idea; and you'll just have a bad hair day.
And someday, you'll find yourself in a place in the world that you'd never thought you'd be. I'm almost 40; 39 weeks pregnant; and well into a career. I never imagined I'd be walking out of another office for another maternity leave. I never imagined I'd be shopping for nursing bras at the same time I'm shopping for anti-wrinkle eye creams. And, I never imagined I'd be a mother of three.
But there's such good news in this strange place in the world. You'll find unexpected friends. You'll learn that girl power is a real thing. Your friends will hold you up; they'll make you feel beautiful even when your stockings sag around your knees, and you've eaten one too many cupcakes. The really good friends will eat the cupcakes with you.
And girl, you've got the best big brother. He's a lover, not a fighter--unless he's fighting your fights. He'll be your biggest cheerleader, snuggler, and supporter. And, talk about girl power! Your big sister is a force. She'll eat the cupcakes with you and show you how to bake them to perfection. She'll teach you your numbers and letters before you're potty trained, I have no doubt. Those two are fantastic:
I made a promise to myself that I'd remember every minute of this pregnancy because I know you'll be my last. I planned weekly photos and updates. Sometimes it's hard to find a place in your world to make it all happen. What did happen? I carried you to work every day; my coworkers' voices are more familiar to you than most of your family. I felt the little bubbles of your tiniest kicks and kept those in my mind through so many uncomfortable and worrisome tests. You're fine and will be fine. Your sister loves secrets, so here's one for you: your mommy is older than most. Your friends' mommies will be at different life stages, career stages, and family stages. I hope I can show them some of the girl power that I've seen. I bought all the creams and potions in the hopes that just one more time my tummy will return to some form of swimsuit-ready presentation. I've watched the scale creep up week by week until I can't bear to watch it anymore. And somehow, I've still managed to find a good hair day (thanks to a fantastic stylist), a dress that doesn't dig into my waistline, and eat the cupcakes. You've made me feel pretty and worthy; and you've helped me find a new place in this world.
I barely remember how to change a diaper; and a good night's sleep is fresh in my mind. We'll muddle through the next few months as some strange hybrid breed of new parent with almost nine years of experience. I'm finding a new place in this world; and very soon, you will too.
(ultrasounds can be creepy, but gosh darn it, look at those cheeks!)
