Tuesday Amazon and Fed Ex dropped off a baby explosion at my house. This was part of it.
It’s hard to believe at times I’m nearly 35 weeks. 35. I vividly still remember being 11. 18. 24. Each week in this pregnancy was such a huge milestone for me. Even though around 20 I felt like I might implode with stress about the whole thing.
It’s been such an incredible journey. There are many times I think, “Can I do this again?” Physically, emotionally. It’s taken quite a toll on me in both ways. Honestly? Part of me would love to get pregnant again quickly. Yet the practical side of me knows this is
- trying to replace the twin experience I lost with another similar
- not a great “on purpose” choice considering how my body needs to recover from all it’s been through this time.
So I don’t think much about that now. I’m focusing on making life a bit easier those first few weeks. Remembering to try to be in those moments that go so quick. Not to freak out at my postpartum body. Because no one really cares about that but me. And eventually things will calm down.
I have 2-3 weeks till he’s here for sure. Isn’t that crazy? I still feel like I’m holding my breath. Waiting to exhale. Waiting to wake up or it to come crashing down. I don’t know that until he’s in my arms I’ll feel much differently. And that’s ok. Those are pretty darn valid emotions considering this past year. I’m not sorry I have them and I don’t feel guilty either.
In such a short time our three lives here are going to change forever. I’ve only recently let myself think of holding him. Carrying him around. The smell of a baby. Maybe the past two weeks I’ve been able to finally do this without my brain shutting it off or screaming, “TIMES TWO.” Just the thought of him snuggling on me is almost overwhelming – because for so long this pregnancy I was prepared for yet another loss.
But here I am. 34 weeks. 5 days. Healthy baby. Very big Mama. And I’m exhaling. Just a little. Very slowly. Teaching myself to breathe hope again.