Confession

I'm enjoying being pregnant. I'm at the miserable part where I hurt. A lot. And whine. A lot. But as I lay here and feel my little one squirm and wiggle inside of me, I realize that I will miss this. 

I think this is likely my last pregnancy. And while to be honest, a part of me rejoices (oh, to have my body back), part of me mourns. My body will no longer be useful the way pregnancy and early motherhood makes it useful. I will miss that. And I will miss the excitement and sense of accomplishment (is that the word I want?) that pregnancy brings. I will miss the unique and private bond with my baby that pregnancy offers. For the first time in my life, I feel like I relate to the pregnant women too-often portrayed as happily guarding a private secret. As not-so-private a person as I am, I've felt that way some this pregnancy. We have secrets, this little gal and I. Sometimes she whomps me and I smile, knowing that whomp was between us and no one else. And it's fun to keep these secrets ours.

I'm sorry that I've resented so much of pregnancy in the past. Shoot, that I resent so much of it now. I'm just impatient... I want to feel good and normal and like myself NOW! And I want my baby out NOW! Waiting is torture.

But it's a torture I'm grateful to have to bear. To have had to bear thrice! My babies know me when they're born; we've gotten to know each other a bit over the course of a few months, and I kind of know them too. I wouldn't trade these perks for anything.

I love you, wee one. And I certainly love the little buggers that I get to smooch on already! Being a mommy can be quite wonderful. I hope my babies know how much I enjoy it.