The Last Third Trimester

Sunday is a big emotional day for me and it has nothing to do with Valentine's Day. It will mark 38 weeks for this pregnancy and I'm not really sure if I want it to hurry up or slow down. This will be the last third trimester for this mama. After this baby is born, this baby making factory is closed for business.* This uterus will grow no more babies after this one is all done. Four third trimesters is most definitely my limit.

But that's not the only reason it will be emotional. It is also the day, 6 years ago, that I was due with our first angel baby. 6 years. I can't even believe it's been that long. I remember approaching this day for the first time with dread as I was just starting to feel E move in my belly. And now, I approach it not with sadness and dread, but with quiet contemplation and slight apprehension. I wouldn't change how the last 6 years have gone for the world, but I often wonder who that little one was meant to be. What would my life look like with that little one in it? Truthfully, it's been on my mind a lot more than usual lately, and that makes it really hard to get ready for this upcoming birth. I worry that the apprehension I feel related to my miscarriage will affect my birth. Part of me has been terrified that this little one will decide to come tomorrow (ha! Not likely) and then the day will be an even bigger jumble of emotions. When I first announced my pregnancy and voiced how close my guess date was to the guess date of my first pregnancy, I had a close friend say that maybe that baby knew I needed a few more years before they could join us on earth. I don't know. Maybe she's right. Or maybe I just like to be consistent with my timing, and since I wasn't going to have a June baby, I should have a February/March baby. 

And so, I sit here cherishing these last weeks even though I am exhausted and sore and just plain uncomfortable. I am grateful that this body has grown this baby as well as three others. Every time she kicks, or rolls, or shoves her little bum out, I am amazed yet again at how a woman's body can stretch to grow a baby from two tiny cells. It is nothing short of miraculous. My belly is riddled with stretch marks, my back is constantly sore, my breasts have begun to become even more painfully tender, and my pelvis feels like it's going to break in half. I am being forced to slow down whether I want to or not (by both Mr Blueberry as well as my body!). And yet, I wouldn't change it for a thing.

I watch my boys play together (when they aren't screaming and fighting) and remember the days that I was waiting for them to join us earthside. I was anxious for the last weeks to go quickly so that I could meet them. This time, I feel more patient. As uncomfortable as I am, I'm not so sure that I want this time to "hurry up." These kicks and rolls are numbered. They will be the last kicks and rolls that I feel within my body. It will be the last time I have a baby all to myself. It is the last time that I will anxiously await the arrival of a baby that my body has nourished. Don't get me wrong. I am very excited to meet this little life. I can't wait to snuggle her squishy little body and smell that sweet baby smell. But, this time I can wait for her to make her arrival when she's ready.**

*Please remind me of this when my babies are no longer babies and the ache takes residence in my body.

**Please remind me of this in 2 weeks when she is still not here and I start complaining.