smiling at my favorite man in the world. i am thirty-four weeks along here.
to catch up on my recent thoughts. my moments are filled with anticipation, to say the least. one minute i am filled with hyper activity; filling the freezer with extra meals and hanging picture frames in the boys' room and researching apricot jam recipes and telling myself to hurry up and pack a hospital bag. not to mention how i am suddenly mopping the floors with vigor and wiping the baseboards like nobody's business. and yet the other minutes, i am telling myself to relax. to chill. to sit and read a magazine. to bathe and deep condition. to store up my energy. i'll need it when the surprise party hits.
i know so many mamas hate the end of the waiting game we call pregnancy, they tell me they are just done. but–out of fear of the unknown or perhaps, out of patience–i am learning to love it. (other than waddling around and wearing the same three outfits on repeat.) the suspense of the surprise is fun to me. i told my doctor this morning that i'm really in no hurry. this baby will come when he's good and ready. and he's not even due for another 3 weeks. of course when i went grocery shopping on monday i wondered to myself if this were the last time i'd take one child with me to the grocery store. how simple people tell me one child is. how easy one child seems to be when you have more than one under wing. i'm sure it's true. i wonder if there are things i'll look back on and wish i'd done more of when life were seemingly so simple. life is always more simple in hindsight. therefore i stocked my cart to the brim so i wouldn't have to go back for weeks. i must've looked awesome pushing that grocery cart while waddling the aisles, heavy like an ox. i loaded a giant seedless watermelon into my cart and laughed at the vision of myself, it nearly slipped and smashed to the ground. (how will i fit a watermelon and two kids into my cart?)
our first is almost four years old. and he has come into his own. he is sweeter than honey. he reminds dad to be safe when he heads out for an early morning bike ride, he tells me mom, i sure love you sporadically throughout the day. he says things that make me smile and then weep a little. he has always been my little sunshine boy. and yes, surely i am biased. he spreads this happiness throughout me like a ray of light. i can't describe it better than that. i knew he was special way back when, but oh, how he has completely lifted me. changed me. seasoned me. made me into a mother.
to be frank, i find myself feeling guilty that whenever i think of our new babe entering the world, i cannot not think of benji too. how unfair that i'm always thinking of the oldest child. is this how it will always be, i wonder. my mind drifts into how the new baby will affect him, how we will introduce them, how their births will be similar and how they will differ. how they will get along, how i will make sure i divvy up my time and my love and honor their personalities and uniqueness. surely–i trust–this second tiny one will carve out a whole new spot in my heart; new dreams i haven't even dreamt yet. however the first is all i know at the moment. he has paved the path of motherhood for me.
in the quiet moments, benji feels my bobbing belly and looks up with his giant chestnut eyes and innocently asks, am i a big brother yet? for awhile i was telling him, nope.. not yet, not for a few more weeks.. but now i realize i've been wrong. i've changed my answer. every tidal wave of my midsection tells me this babe is ready to make his move. he is ready to add a new role to the family. this little brother is already making his impact. we are talking about him, naming him, practicing for our new life with him. readying ourselves to welcome him with wide arms. yes, yes! you are a big brother. and i am a new mother, all over again.