Tossing My Cap

The last few months have been a bit of a whirlwind. What am I saying? The past few years have been a whirlwind. Ha! Seriously, the speed at which time flies astounds me. N and I are a few short months from having been married for 7 years. Holy schmoly, where has the time gone? It’s overwhelming when I realize that I initially met my husband in my mid-twenties and now I’m on the downhill slope towards my 40’s.

I’m wanting to crinkle my nose at that thought, but realized it’s just adding to my crow’s feet and wrinkled brow. If you can look at the mirror and not see either, just nod and pretend you understand what you’re reading. Because there is a point in almost every woman’s life that seriously wonders, “Is Botox really that bad?” If you haven’t thought that, your crow’s feet and wrinkled brow haven’t had enough development. Give yourself some time…the thought is coming.

As we near the end of this pregnancy, I have a condition that’s akin to “senioritis”. If you’re a teacher to high school seniors, you know what I mean. Or if you’ve ever BEEN a high school senior, you should know what I mean. That last year of school gives you an antsy-ness like nothing before in your life. You know that it’s your last year and you’ve worked hard for the perks that come with being the elite of your high school campus. You class schedule is light, you get a longer lunch period, you get the best parking spaces and unlike the underclassmen, YOU’RE ALMOST DONE!!! While the level of excitement amongst seniors is palpable, there is an undercurrent of melancholy because you also realize that your life is about to change in dramatic ways. These kids that you’ve spent much of your life growing up around are about to all go their separate ways. Sure, some of you are going to the same college or a few might even be roomies once you get to college, but you know you’re on the precipice of adulthood. You’re not a kid anymore and those last few months, days, weeks before graduation really need to be savored. While the opportunities you see in your future are exciting, you also know that once you cross that stage for that diploma, nothing will ever be the same.

You can never go back.





Both of my pregnancies have been difficult. I can’t say that I’ve enjoyed myself either time. Incredibly ironic after our infertility journey. And yet, it is with a bittersweet heart that I realize THIS IS IT. I’m almost done. While I’m so excited to meet this little boy, there is an element of sadness that this is the last time I’ll experience being pregnant.

If you don’t know, it is. We’re done. I’m really getting too old for this. If I have any eggs left, they’re like the wrinkled old maids at the bottom of the popcorn bowl.

So I let my heart marinate in the melancholy for a moment. This is the last time that I’ll feel those little jabs and rolls in my womb and rub cocoa butter on my over-stretched skin. This is the last time people will help carry things unasked or stand aside for me simply because of my fragile physical condition.

This is the last time that I’ll have a role in creating and nurturing a miracle hand-in-hand with my Heavenly Father.

Have you momma’s ever looked at it that way? What other chance do you get to do that? Strange, isn’t it?

Wow.

And then...

And then, I realize – this is also an end to the heartburn! No more morning sickness! No more constipation! No more hourly trips to the potty! No more awkward pregnancy sex! No more gestational diabetes! Oh, the silver lining is bright and shining my friends! I don't even have to search for it. Suddenly the melancholy marinade has all but dried up and my mind reels from the excitement of what’s to come…

A Little Monkey, all wrinkled and pink, with a button nose, peapod toes and a fuzzy head. Tiny newborn clothes and midnight feedings and teaching Big Monkey terms like “gentle” and “nice”. Belly button stumps and tiny socks that never stay on. I get the pleasure and privilege of doing all of that all over again and honestly, I cannot wait! I’m not naïve. I understand that sleep deprivation, constant worry, and endless diapers come with that cute package. In the meantime, I’ll attempt to savor the last five weeks of this experience and not rush through it. But I’d be lying if I said I’m not looking forward to what change is on the horizon.


Monkey at 36 weeks gestation...




M2 at 34 weeks gestation...



I think I see a little resemblance, no? :-)

Unless M2 decides to join us earlier, July 13th is our scheduled date for a C-section. I’m really ready to toss this cap and meet this kiddo!

And no, Dad and Gramma, names have not been picked out. Well, they have, I just can't get N to commit to it.