It's official. I have an extra heartbeat inside of me, along with an additional set of arms, legs and eyes. I am growing a baby and we are growing our family. As LO so accurately stated today, "Mama, we are going to be 4 now" all the while swinging four fingers up in the air. She has a new fascination with counting and numbers. She must have gotten that from her father. I was always more interested in words. I wanted to know where she was going with this, so I asked "What do you mean?" To which she very matter-of-factly answered "It's Papa, you, me and baby...4 of us." I was in shock. I had no clue she grasped the whole concept to this extent. She looked equally as puzzled at me for being so slow on the uptake. As if she was thinking, "DUH, Mama! Don't you get it?" And then she picked up a Cheerio from the ground and ate it.
There are times, like at the OB hearing our nugget's heartbeat, when I truly marvel at the miracle of life. When I feel blessed for having the privilege of nurturing a human being from an infinitesimal zygote to a full-blown beautiful baby! But most of the time I do not.
I don't because I have a child in my daily presence whom I marvel at constantly. Another person for whom I care for, clean for, cook for and comfort. And occasionally lose my cool at. So I am not as preoccupied with the one inside of me as much as the one on the outside. I know it sounds cruel and even unfair but it's the truth. See, the one walking the Earth needs my constant attention while the other one thrives with very little upkeep. Baby-in-Belly is very low-maintenance, needing just a few things: nutrition (which I'm a champ at, I'm never one to skip a meal), exercise (I get that everyday chasing LO around the kitchen island), a prenatal vitamin and a ton of affection from Big Sister. This baby is getting its share of loving from LO and hopefully that will continue when Baby is out of the womb. LO loves to kiss my belly, pat it, put her blankie on it and loves to plop right on top of it while we read books. Oh, and also touches my belly when we're crossing the street because Baby needs to "holds hands" (ironically, a rule LO herself has a hard time following).
Despite what the dusty pregnancy journal on my nightstand might indicate, Baby is already deeply loved and a full-fledged family member. Spoken about daily and always included in the daily rundown with P. "I felt Baby flutter today." "Can you believe that if Baby is a girl she already has all the 3 million eggs she'll have throughout her ENTIRE life?" (Insane, right?!) "Baby wants a Whataburger...and onion rings." Baby is most certainly loved and the entire family is itching with anticipation to meet him or her. Especially LO, who proclaims that Baby will arrive Tuesday. Maybe on "A" Tuesday but not "THIS" Tuesday, I try to explain. She stares blankly back at me. And says "No Mama, on TUESDAY." I should let this one go.
Recently on a plane ride to Disneyland and Vegas for our family vacation, I had a moment of deep marvel, gratitude and pure love. The kind of moment which involuntarily produces tears in your eyes and tugs at your insides in a really good, yet weird sort of way. Not unlike every time I watch "Love Actually" (specifically the airport scene where everyone embraces their loved ones). Maybe "Flying High in the Sky" as LO triumphantly calls an airplane ride, puts us all in our place, perspective-wise. We're tiny beings in this universe yet we're capable of such intense emotion and love. Anyhow, back to my moment: LO fell asleep on top of me, which only happens on airplane rides or when she's very ill. So I only get to hold my beautiful toddler creature like this 4-6 times a year....tops. Thankfully, she doesn't get sick often and sadly, we don't get to travel via airplane as much as I'd like. So this is a moment I'd cherish anytime. But it wouldn't warrant tears or gut-wrenching sentimentality. I'm not THAT much of a cornball. Yet this time, I realized that I was holding my TWO babies. For the first time. My belly held one, my arms held the other. Our three heartbeats palpitated within inches of each other. For a few precious minutes we were almost a sole heartbeat.
Then we all slept. Which I'm sure will be the last time that happens in a very long time. Unless we catch another plane before January.
Bon voyage everybody!
Despite what the dusty pregnancy journal on my nightstand might indicate, Baby is already deeply loved and a full-fledged family member. Spoken about daily and always included in the daily rundown with P. "I felt Baby flutter today." "Can you believe that if Baby is a girl she already has all the 3 million eggs she'll have throughout her ENTIRE life?" (Insane, right?!) "Baby wants a Whataburger...and onion rings." Baby is most certainly loved and the entire family is itching with anticipation to meet him or her. Especially LO, who proclaims that Baby will arrive Tuesday. Maybe on "A" Tuesday but not "THIS" Tuesday, I try to explain. She stares blankly back at me. And says "No Mama, on TUESDAY." I should let this one go.
Recently on a plane ride to Disneyland and Vegas for our family vacation, I had a moment of deep marvel, gratitude and pure love. The kind of moment which involuntarily produces tears in your eyes and tugs at your insides in a really good, yet weird sort of way. Not unlike every time I watch "Love Actually" (specifically the airport scene where everyone embraces their loved ones). Maybe "Flying High in the Sky" as LO triumphantly calls an airplane ride, puts us all in our place, perspective-wise. We're tiny beings in this universe yet we're capable of such intense emotion and love. Anyhow, back to my moment: LO fell asleep on top of me, which only happens on airplane rides or when she's very ill. So I only get to hold my beautiful toddler creature like this 4-6 times a year....tops. Thankfully, she doesn't get sick often and sadly, we don't get to travel via airplane as much as I'd like. So this is a moment I'd cherish anytime. But it wouldn't warrant tears or gut-wrenching sentimentality. I'm not THAT much of a cornball. Yet this time, I realized that I was holding my TWO babies. For the first time. My belly held one, my arms held the other. Our three heartbeats palpitated within inches of each other. For a few precious minutes we were almost a sole heartbeat.
Then we all slept. Which I'm sure will be the last time that happens in a very long time. Unless we catch another plane before January.
Bon voyage everybody!
