Growing Belly, Fading Memory

Now I'm 32 weeks, so I'm in the home stretch. The weirdest part of this pregnancy is that its my last one, so everything I do is with this weird feeling knowing I never have/get to do it again. Drinking that nasty sugar drink for a glucose test was still crappy, but when I did it I managed to choke it down with the thought that I will never have to do it again. Yay! I feel like that drink is extra nasty to me because I don't drink soda or sugary drinks EVER, so its just extra disgusting.

Every time I go to the doctor and get weighed, which lets face it no one cares to do, I think that this is the last time I'm gonna gain weight and wear stretchy belly panel pants because there's a little person in there keeping my out of my regular American Eagle jeggings. By the way, I'm high-fiving myself for not gaining any weight in the last two weeks since I went to the doctor. Still holding on at 144, which is probably only because I did not make large amounts of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies (for the fiber, duh) or eat a 12 pack of mini Snickers ice cream bars) since my last visit.

We all know that all the crappy parts of pregnancy fade into a distant memory, cause at the end its totally worth it. And the weirdest part of not being pregnant anymore is that the memory of being pregnant, having that little person with the hiccups and the kicking, the giant rock hard belly that has a mine of its own, all of that kind of fades too. After you're not pregnant anymore its kind of hard to recall exactly how you felt when you were pregnant. You vaguely remember some nausea and heartburn, or even swollen ankles (for some people) or the not so temporary stretch marks, but the excitement and anticipation and heart full of love for someone you haven't met, those feelings are hard to pinpoint.

I can look at my belly right now and see the faded stretch marks from when I had Alana, leftovers from 6 years ago when my skinny flat stomach was like What are you doing to me lady? but its hard to recall exactly how I felt carrying her around. I didn't have the foresight to really take any belly pictures, just a couple of cheesy shots at Sears, but those were at 32 weeks so plenty of growing was done after that. I took pretty regular pictures when I was having Ava, but I still can't remember what it was like to just have that one kid, waiting on the next, cause now my reality is two girls who are wild and crazy and the thought of just one kid is completely foreign.

Now every day is filled with anticipation of a third kid. A boy. A new frontier for me. No more hairbows and pink, just lots of navy blue and stripes and must they put tiny numbers on every outfit like they are on a sports team already. My girls are filled with excitement, Ava talks about how she's going to hold his hand and keep him from being scared of the Easter bunny which I'm not sure is possible cause she is scared of it. When he is finally here and crawling over to destroy their elaborate games of La La Loopsies I'm sure they will have no recollection of what it was like when they couldn't wait to meet him.

Overall, big picture, I like being pregnant. There is no baby sharing. Only I can hold him, feel him move around, have sole ownership of this growing person. That changes after babies are born. The world grabs on and steals moments from you. Grandparents want to hold your precious cargo that you aren't used to sharing, sibling want to give them kisses, they will someday abandon you and go to kindergarten. The baby fades and turns into a five year old who changes their clothes in the middle of the day because their mood has changed and they think you enjoy doing laundry.

Its not even possible to remember holding a five year old when they were a baby. I look at Alana with her long hair, writing her name on stuff and getting a container of berries out of the fridge, by herself, no help from me, and I see a kid. I don't see a chubby baby who at one point caused these stretch marks on my belly, who crawled around on the floor intentionally knocking toys over, who slept on my chest in the middle of the night. My mind cannot process that concept, and my heart doesn't want to. I look at Ava and see a toddler, who talks way too much and makes a very serious mean face when she doesn't get her way. It hasn't even been that long since she was a baby. A chubby baby with a crazy mohawk who never cried, she was so laidback and lovable. She was a crazy little baby who followed Alana around everywhere, but then it never involved any fighting over a Bubble Guppies coloring book. She stills looks little to me, but when you compare 30ish pounds with 7 or 8, they suddenly look huge. Bringing home a newborn changes an almost 3 year old from a little tiny girl to godzilla.

With 8 weeks left all I want to do is sit on the couch with my girls and try to freeze every moment of just having two kids that I possible can. Three will alter the dynamic. It will make our current pretty easy routine slightly more time consuming, although with a boy baby I won't spend nearly as much time accessorizing. These girls take as much time to get ready as me, with their earrings and fancy braids and changing outfits.

My belly will continue to grow and I will continue to watch it move around, trying to make a mental note or maybe something more permanent like a mental tattoo and soon this phase of my life will be over. I won't just be expecting a third baby, I will have a third baby. Whole different ballgame. I probably won't remember what this phase was like though. I probably won't even remember writing this.