I walked up to the doctor's office this morning trying not to waddle or limp, my round ligament pain acting up on the left side. It's a familiar feeling, one I tried to take in stride (or take in limp, as it were).
During my visit I told the doctor about how she moves differently than the boys did. "It's less of a kick or punch and more of a flutter," I explained. "I have a couple of theories about this. My first theory is that she's dancing in there." "She's going to love big, fluffy dresses," Dr. B. quipped with a smile." "My second theory," I continued, "is that there is more fat this time between me and the baby." "More insulation," he replied. "Good theory."
That's not the first thing to be different. The sickness has been pervasive throughout, and has included new symptoms, including intense bouts of stomach pain. Everything has just been harder. But then, that's to be expected I suppose. I suspect some of that is due to a female cooking inside me, but mostly I think it's a combination of this being my 4th (4th!) pregnancy and the fact that I still had a nearly new, nursing baby when I conceived. My body is rallying, but I'm asking a lot of it.
I feel like I moan and groan too much, and I'm trying to stop that. Even the complaining in my own mind. Because, hey, I am lucky to be pregnant. And also, I signed up for this.
On July 4th we finished off our packed day (a 10K, a loud, colorful, candy-packed parade, and a backyard BBQ) with a few dozen fireworks out in our little street. The boys were utterly gleeful as they handed their dad smoke bombs and sparklers and Peaceful Pagodas to ignite (with his creme brulee torch no less). It was a made in America, better than a movie, memory making kind of night. Warm air, the sound of neighbors celebrating, me snuggled up with the babe in an adirondak, the boys dancing in the colorful smoke and racing around with sparklers. Perfection.
And then I thought: this is going to pass by in the blink of an eye. In just a few more years, our teenage boys will announce that they want to spend the night of the 4th with friends. Then they'll eat a disgusting amount of dinner, ask for some money, grab their cell phones, and leave. I'm hoping it's a little better than that, but I know what reality looks like.
The next day I shared this future image with Taylor and declared, "This is a crazy, hectic time in our life. All these children are so little and difficult. But they love being here with us, and it is
so fun. We just have to embrace the crazy and soak it all in while we can."
And that is what we're trying our darndest to do.
Good thing, because it's about to get crazier.
{This was the last year for the Vday party at the Blue House!}
