Celebrating

       

   
It occurs to me that I should be reveling.

My pregnancy with Nils was 9 months of a giddy, golden haze. I walked around with a permanent smile on my face. Every time I found myself alone in a room with a mirror, I turned sideways and checked out the belly. I read books, took classes, shopped, and planned all with a single goal in mind: being actively pregnant. It wasn't enough to be physically pregnant; I wanted it to take up all my thoughts as well. At one point I said to a friend "I have three months to go, and I literally can't wait." 

This time around, things are completely different. I'm so glad I don't need to read any books, take any classes, go out and buy many things - I can't bear the thought of doing any of those things. I get flashes of excitement, but I also occasionally forget that I'm pregnant. This little one is no less wanted, no less loved than her brother. It's just... old hat. Pregnancy isn't novel for me any more. And I'm not in a hurry for her to arrive. It'll be lovely, of course, but there's no rush.

I should do a little more celebrating, though. I've got two weeks left, and then I'll probably never be pregnant again. Never again! This is such a unique experience! I should sit down and focus on it. I should rub my belly a little more. I should be taking it all in.

So yeah. I'm going to get right on that.