I’m starting to get excited –to no longer be pregnant, to no longer live in perpetual winter, to not have my oversized sweatshirts be crop tops, to have a glass of rosé in a hot, steaming bath, and to no longer have to roll out of bed like a walrus — but mainly to meet and hold this next little guy.
But yet in my final week, I wonder what will happen to the small family we, without really realizing, have established the last 23 months. We have reached some sort of pleasant, predictable homeostasis. With Ian, we are in the end game of babyhood as toddlerhood is on the rise — Ian finally sleeps through the night. He can finally use words to communicate with us and express desires. He can put on his own winter coat.
And now, at this end point, the memories of having a family of three keep flooding in. I feel like Lester Burnham at the end of the American Beauty reliving those moments that in a flash epiphany made it all so magical: “Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once, and it’s too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst… And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain, and I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment.”
- Like that first moment when Ian realized he could swing between BOTH our arms,
- or that time when he realized he could demand family group hugs, or a group dance,
- or he could sit on top of a slide, like some sort of high king and command both of our attention before his descent,
- or, even, this very morning when he walked in our bedroom and yelled “Momma & Dadda up, up, UPPPPP!”
No matter how excited, I can’t quite contemplate this interloper babe. The family of three standout moments highjack my mind in the good place where everyone sleeps 8 hours. Everyone warns that two babes is pure, raw survival. Now, long dwelling in a zone of relish with Ian, I prepare to welcome another. As one Scary Mommy post put it, how can you “‘Eat, Pray, Love’ when you can hardly Eat, Poop, Sleep”? But, I can’t also help but seeing the future as pure potential — whatever that may be (Solange and Beyoncé performing Saturday night at Coachella? #siblinggoals).
But, none the less, trying to savor this last week of contradictory emotions while rolling out of bed.