I miss it

Last weekend I lamented seeing my sister in law. It wasn’t really about her. I just knew she’d be in that glow that pregnancy brings. Rosy cheeked, plump-faced, and happily expecting the wonderful firsts a new baby offers. Her curvacious fullness prompting attention and well-wishes for the blessing of this little boy – my nephew.

Pangs of emptiness in my core were certain.

Just a few months ago, hubs and I lay in bed. He caressed my stomach as though he could feel the swell of life – as though he were ready. We chatted about “fin” – the pet named (and yet to be) last child of our brood. I’d been feeling odd for days, similar to the way I’d felt just before we discovered Cinco’s impending arrival. We talked of potential names, rattling off those we loved, scrunching faces at those we’d never really consider, thinking of meanings we’d like to envoke. We contemplated baby’s looks – hair in soft light-colored curls, alluring eyes, skin of birchwood. We laughed about how each sibling would react to the new edition. We skirted around the obvious issues of financial strain created while giving the best we can to each child.

Days following, I picked up a test, followed the instructions and waited in my cramped toilet closet. I had closed myself in, locking the door to avoid the usual visitor. As she patted on the door – first timidly and then with more vigor, the first blue line emerged quickly. She called out “Mooommmmmmy? Mah? MOM!!!” as I silently waited behind the door. But that extra line never appeared. Fin was still merely a dream.

I miss being pregnant. I miss those first flutters of baby’s movement. I miss that initial moment of my husbands joy at first feeling a kick of his unborn child as he rests his hand against my stomach. I miss the days of counting down, of wondering if baby will look like the visions conjured in my dreams. I miss planning for the hospital, the visitors, the homecoming.

My baby isn’t really a baby anymore. Next week, she’ll be two. She’s already a personality. She’s already got her own ideas, has conversations, creates. She’s growing more independent with each passing day.

And soon, like her siblings before her, she’ll be lost in her own activities, interests and a world I don’t quite fit into.

**This is inspired by the Just Write meme – an exercise in free writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments.

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