I’m a big ‘ol ticking time bomb. Any day this baby could make his or her arrival and the wait will be over.
We’re in the in-between phase. The hurry up and wait. The preparing to prepare.
I never thought I’d look like this.
I never thought I’d feel the kicks or the hiccups inside my belly or the panic that I HAVE to get the microwave clean or I might spontaneously combust.
Never thought the arches of my feet would ache like this.
Never thought I would understand the way a body wakes you up every two hours in preparation of what’s to come.
Never thought I get this big.
I just watched a cow in the pasture trying to get up from a rest, with a ‘one, two, three…heave, ho…’ sort of technique and I could relate to her.
I watched another one attempt to lay down, and I nodded my head in solidarity.
It’s weird. And most of the time it’s not so pretty. Just last week I had a mental breakdown about moving the board games from one closet to another.
And my poor husband can’t find a thing in the kitchen because, according to him, some crazy pregnant lady keeps rearranging things.
I don’t believe him. I have no recollection of such acts. I tell him maybe it’s him who’s going crazy.
I don’t know who’s rearranging the kitchen, but I do know I have the strongest urge to vacuum right now. And last week I felt just as urgent about capturing a few photos of what the two of us look like in this phase of ‘pre-parenthood.’
So I forced my little sister to take some, right after I finished the donut she brought me from town. The poor thing didn’t know what was coming, but she did a great job (and she’s not even the sister of mine who’s an actual photographer).
Anyway, in a couple weeks (or tomorrow or the next day) we will be three.
But here we are, still just the two of us (sort of) and counting down the days.
I don’t think my husband has ever taken a better photo, he’s just sort of radiating, a smile as big as his wife’s belly.