I am swiftly approaching B-day, possibly swifter than I had imagined it would approach. As I get closer to the birth of my third child, I am filled with fear, awe, and a twinge of sadness. Most know this has not been the easiest pregnancy for me, but it is my last. That in itself is bittersweet.
I am 35 weeks tomorrow, but have been having contractions off and on throughout the week, signifying that this baby is determined to come in her own time. She is spritely and fiesty already, and I will miss the gentle movement, karate sized kicks, and slightly gag inducing stretches. I can sometimes almost see her foot stretch out there. It gives me the heebie geebies. But there is something empty once the baby is out. Something lost on sharing them with everyone else.
I digress. . .
My biggest fear is how fast she will grow once she's here. If she comes this week like she seems determined to be, she will be small. Very small, and perhaps not even ready to be here. Impatient little thing. But it won't be long before she smiles, then laughs, then rolls, crawls, walks, runs, talks, goes to school, and leaves us for college.
Yes, I know I'm getting ahead of myself, but all this time spent with my brilliant, precocious, loving, and determined children is precious. And in my haste to get through the day to bedtime, I sometimes forget that. And I look back at the face of my four year old daughter and wonder where the time went.
So I am excited and sad all at the same time. Probably partly hormones and lack of sleep, but nonetheless, I adore my children, and I want to remember every quirky, funny, angry, and loving moment we spend together.