My Pregnancy: Week 19

My Pregnancy Week 19I have spoken numerous times about coping with other people’s comments about the sex of our child; I have not focused so much on my own excitement. The clock ticks so very slowly!

I was so excited that I grabbed the five Tupperware bins of all our baby gear and clothes (newborn to 2T) from by parent’s house in August when I was a mere twelve weeks pregnant. I went through them some, thinning out a small pile of items that will most likely be too small come the next winter. Our sons used them as lily pads over the pretend river in our living room and cliffs for dare-devil jumping maneuvers.

Seven weeks later, I’m bursting to know what baby will come so I can organize. Oh, how deeply I love organizing! It’s silly really. I like having order, knowing, especially in the midst of raising children because there is little order to be found in that circus arena. The bins are just in the way now, added clutter to my anticipation and nesting inclinations. Side note, I’m happy the nesting feeling arrived because the tired season of the first trimester did NOT help with keeping our home orderly.

This unsettled anticipation is also associated with the larger anticipation of what our family will look like. I’ve been waiting for this moment since when we found out we were pregnant, since we were not-trying-but-not-NOT-trying, since we knew we wanted a third… and since I was a little girl who wanted to have a family. We all like to have a picture of the future. This third kiddo, 99 percent likely our last, fills in the picture of what our family will become.

Sure, holding a vision of what our family will look like has many assumptions. We assume our children will live generally healthy and fall not too far from the tree. Hubby and I do try to keep an open mind of letting our children become who they become while being supportive and encouraging, even if different or unfamiliar to us. Still, the picture of our family feels more complete, less fuzzy and unclear. We have hopes. Even something like the baby’s name becomes clearer or if I’ll refer to my children en mass as “the boys” or “the kids.”

Life will have many, many, many surprises for us down the road. Something about knowing the sex of our babe feels final. I’m aware this is our last child, our last pregnancy, our last time finding out, and our last time not knowing. The “lasts” are starting to come in a way that the “firsts” used to come just five years ago when we started a family and almost eleven years ago when we started dating and all the other firsts in between. The lasts are beginning.

Annie is a mom of a two- and three-year-old who finally is enjoying the full spectrum of food again. Hurrah and huzzah!

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