Windows

So, we are coming to the home stretch. Never thought I'd be able to say that. 32.5 weeks and things seem (knock wood) to be continuing well. And I'm starting to get sentimental about pregnancy, feeling like this terrifying, treacherous and yet also profoundly beautiful experience is about to be over, probably forever, and there are things I don't want to forget.

I never want to forget the look on Bruno's face when he feels one of his daughters kick or squirm. The delight and wonder in it. Waking each day to "family cuddle", where we spoon and both tune in to the movements of our children, and Bruno tells me tales of their antics the night before when he came to bed and held my belly as I lay passed out, drooling into the pillow. His one-on-two time.

I never want to forget the other night when I walked by our full length mirror, naked, and dared to look in: I was moved to tears by how stunningly beautiful my body is right now. In my garish maternity moo-moos, with my bed-hair and my round, round face, I find myself appalling, but when I caught that glimpse of just my body, my belly enormously round and smooth and housing our family, I found myself to be just gorgeous. I stared and stared and cried with gratitude, until Bruno came and found me and hurried me off my feet, agreeing that, 'yes, your body is beautiful, now get back in bed'.

Of course, I have other kinds of moments too. I have now become completely addicted to my progesterone shots, and the day before I get my next fix I can pretty much count on being a miserable excuse for a human being all day long. I'm fairly sure my mother learned how to text message just so she could safely communicate with me on these days.

And going through everything we have been through hasn't helped me become any better at or less neurotic about decision making. I've spent days obsessing about nursery paint colors and glider purchases despite having sworn to no longer allow such inanities to suck up my energy any more. I guess keeping a sense of perspective is life-time work.

I thought, in my time on bedrest, I would read 800 books, but I found I just didn't have the brain for it. I think I read 2. And I thought maybe audio books would do the trick, but when I realized I'd been listening to The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao from Volume 2 instead of the beginning, I just didn't have the gumption to start again, or to start anything else, for that matter.

I've knitted. And loved the colors, the textures, the pattern-making mathematics of it all. And I've tutored, which miraculously my brain has continued showing up for each week. Tutoring has been a total blessing during this journey, grounding me, structuring my day, and funding my extra-curricular activity on buybuybaby.com.

As I lie here on the living room couch, typing this somewhat rambling post, a pair of birds who nested in our Tiki Room are teaching their babies how to fly. The little ones keep mistaking our windows for air and flying into them. It is odd and disturbing and sweet all at once. As I prepare to leave this nest, this nesting, and launch into the next stage, I can only hope not to run into life's windows too hard.