Jon and I are expecting again, eagerly awaiting the arrival of a new little sweetie come late December, and while this isn't breaking news, I haven't had the urge to write about the pregnancy until this week. I'll admit that it's taken me completely by surprise that I haven't been bursting at the seams and overflowing with prenatal anecdotes and updates.
My first pregnancy was like a wild fire, charged with electricity, evolving a life of its own. I would have broadcast on national television, and radio, and from the highest mountain just to hear the words "I'm pregnant" come out of my mouth, as if hearing them made it more real, more concrete. It was like that week right after you get engaged when you find yourself peeking at the new diamond sparkling on your left hand just to remind yourself that its real, and you aren't dreaming. And the first time around I had nothing more important to occupy my every waking thought, so it consumed me and became my identity for those months.
But this time it didn't come thundering into my life, elbowing its way to the forefront of my awareness. Instead it rolled in like the changing tides and found a home in the stillness beneath the hustle and bustle of everyday life. This pregnancy has had a quieter and more peaceful presence, and has patiently taken a backseat as I continue giving Milani the majority of my time and attention.
Every pregnancy brings with it an intrinsic sense of worry, a laundry list of fears and anxieties and doubts. Every pregnancy feels a little bit delicate, a little fragile, like for nine months I am teetering between unsurpassed joy, and unbearable heartbreak. It feels, for nine months, like I am carrying a butterfly that can at any moment fly away, and I want to hold onto it tightly, and closely, to fiercely protect it, to make it stay, but pregnancy doesn't work that way. And we are so lucky and so grateful that our pregnancy scales so far have been tipped heavily in favor of blessings, because I know that on the other side of that scale is pain and disappointment that I couldn't even imagine. My heart breaks for friends who have felt the weight of such loss, and I feel guilty, like an imposter, when I try to offer words of sympathy or encouragement. All I can do is provide my love and support, and then bow my head and ferociously thank the heavens above for this little girl sleeping beside me and the tiny one tumbling within.
To be honest, it took some time for me to embrace this pregnancy, to really feel excited and enthusiastic about it. In a way, I feel like a terrible, horrible mother for not being elated right off the bat, and it's an unusual thing to feel a little bit like I'm betraying the angel we already have by bringing along another; to feel the need to protect the one I've grown to love so wildly from feeling any resentment or hurt from the arrival of her sibling. But my sweet Milani will be an amazing big sister, of this I have no doubt. She is so kind and so loving, I think having a younger sibling will only make her shine brighter than she does already. I can't wait to watch their relationship grow and their friendship unfold.
I plan to savor these last couple months of afternoons spent together with my girl, just the two of us, two peas in our pod, while we make room in our pod and our life and our hearts for the new arrival. And I will thank God for every little kick, and wiggle I feel as our little one grows, knowing that each movement is confirmation that our peanut is growing strong and healthy. Until December my tiny darling, rest easily and comfortably, and know we love you and can't wait to meet you!