I’ve been quiet about this pregnancy. It’s unusual for me to have so little to say about anything in particular. And I’ll be the first to admit, it’s taken me a long time to come to terms with having a third baby so quickly, with being pregnant again at a time I wasn’t really planning to be, and just with being pregnant again, period.
I know that for SO many, getting pregnant is a challenge, and as such, I’ve been hesitant to put this out there. But for those of us for whom getting, staying or being pregnant isn’t the challenge, I’m here to talk about not being super excited to be pregnant at all. I know I’m not the first woman out there to feel this way, but it’s considered odd to be married, stable, and with two adorable kids already and to feel this way. Every baby is a blessing, right? Right?
I have felt, for about 20 weeks, that I’ve had to “get it up” for this baby. You know, fake it. When people are “so excited” for me, I have to put on the smiley face and be “so excited” too. Because when I’m not, I’m met with curiosity, concern, and the assumption that something’s wrong with me. Nope, nothing’s wrong, I just really, really didn’t have being pregnant in my 2011 plans.
I’ve wondered for ages when I’d come around to enjoying this pregnancy. I thought it might happen during the 2nd trimester, after I got some energy back. And to some extent, it did. I thought feeling it move would help, even though this baby is so gentle, I have to be completely stopped and still to feel. To some extent, that helped, too. I thought that maybe if I was able to keep running, I’d feel
I assumed, when we found out we were pregnant, that we would have another mystery baby like Finleigh. It was fun not knowing what she was (though I knew from the moment that stick turned pink!) and even more fun to give birth with that ultimate mystery. All we really wanted was a healthy baby, right? Same thing this time, right?
But as I found myself struggling to bond to this baby, while zipping here and dashing there and chasing Finleigh down from the dining room table and fending off Ryan’s daily monologue, I couldn’t. I had nothing for this kid. Until it dawned on me that I HAD to know what it was. HAD to. Michael didn’t want to know. His theory is that it’s so much easier to accept what you don’t want if the baby is right there in front of you. As much as all he wanted was a healthy baby, he really wanted a son. Yeah, it’s cliche, and he’s not really a cliche kind of guy, but he wanted a boy. I wanted a healthy baby; really and truly I didn’t care what it was, I just needed to know.
So we found out. And Michael was crestfallen. And in the last few days, since we’ve known, I’ve actually been able to imagine life with three little girls. Been able to think of pulling all those sweet newborn outfits from the bins. Thinking of what colors to paint the room and Finleigh and baby sister will share, and how I can just dye the crib sheets to match the new decor rather than buying new.
I would have done the same if it had been a boy. For whatever reason, this time around, this was really, really important to my ability to come to terms with this pregnancy, with this baby, with having two kids SO close together (19 months), with not being able to keep running the way I wanted to and planned to.
This nesting is my way of finding a way to connect to this little girl that I wasn’t sure I wanted. But who I love, very, very much. I’m still a ways off from being completely excited about her, but I’ve come quite a ways in a few days…no doubt by October, we’ll all be ready for her to join our family. I’m sure she’ll be the best surprise we never asked for.