I'm reaching that totally fun stage of pregnancy where you can feel little unidentifiable body parts moving around all over the place. And no, I'm not being sarcastic--it's really, really neat. Sure I get the occasional bladder issue as a result of all the wiggling, but honestly, I've never been happier to pee myself every now and again.
Feeling this little girl kick and punch and flip reminds me that, well, there really is a little girl in there.
Profound, I know. As always.
Yesterday my husband's facebook status said something like, "Can't believe we'll have another little one in eight weeks!"
You know? I can't either.
Sure her room is painted, her name's all set, and we have every single baby item we could ever dream of owning, but until she's out--breathing, sleeping, and crying in my arms--I really feel like I can't make sense of it all.
I do know how unbelievably lucky I feel, but at this moment, that seems to be the extent of it.
Lately, when I get up for one of my six nightly pee breaks, I find myself sneaking into James's room--you know, just to check on him. Just to watch him breath and smack his lips for a minute. And every time I do, I feel totally overwhelmed by how much I love that sticky little, back-talking child.
On a typical day he'll get one timeout for swatting at me, a second timeout for using his stuffed animal's arm to swat at me (um yeah, still not allowed), and then he'll cap it off with a 'no dessert' sentence--usually for something super creative. Like using his Power Ranger's legs to move his stuffed animal's arm to deploy a toy crossbow at his mother.
But despite the wide variety of four-year-old antics, I love that kid with everything I've got.
Usually, when I'm sneaking out of his room at night, I catch a glimpse of the baby's room across the hall. I see the empty crib, with the quiet mobile, the brand new homemade curtains, and I just can't help but get choked up.
It's a sad choked up because there's no five-month-old tossing around in there. But it's also a happy choked up, because soon enough that very still room will be very, very occupied.
What can I say? I'm totally looking forward to it.
Every day, I'm completely amazed by the people who stop me at meetings, in public, where ever, and say things like, "Oh will this be your second? Oh boy. A second child makes for at least five times as much work. You'd think it's doubles, but that's not the case!" And they anxiously go on to list the four-hundred-and-one challenges associated with a new baby in the house.
I'm never quite sure how to respond, but I have made a solemn promise to myself that I will never say "Why don't you shut the hell up and keep the negative sh!t to yourself?" ever again.
I did that once. Let's just say it ended with a long and detailed apology letter.
I'm also abstaining from retort lines like, "Oh, so you regret having your second then?"
Because that one? That ended in an apology letter, too.
(If you must know, I actually have and apology letter template saved on my hard-drive. Girls like me can use that extra shot of convenience.)
So these days, I try my best to remember my manners and usually respond by saying something neutral like, "Thank you for that information. I hope to find it helpful before or after the baby arrives."
I use the same line when people imply that my uterus might explode into one-million pieces at the mere mention of a VBAC, or when they wrinkle their noses and gasp because oh-my-word, we're naming our daughter a nickname. How will she ever get a job? Won't that sound too casual at her wedding ceremony? But wait, that's if she can't even find a husband to have and hold her with a stumpy little name like that!
Really now, who cares about a name? We're holding out for some exceptionally good looks and some outrageous tap dancing talent. Got that?
And as a side note, the last woman to hit me with the name related nose-wrinkle has a son named "Chick." Let me tell you, I could go on and on and on some more about that naming choice. As in: "Oh, your grown son's name is Chick? Is that short for "Chicken" or does he actually have no penis?"
And now I will stop.
(If your name is Chick, please let me know and I'll send you a personalized copy of that aforementioned apology letter by the end of the work day.)
So anyway you slice it, the point of this post is just to say that I'm really, really getting excited for this new, little girl. It's been a long time since we've had a baby in the house, and let's be honest here, I'm definitely gonna need the diversion when my current 'baby' starts riding the bus this fall.