So this is what it’s like to be pregnant with older kids anticipating the big day almost as much as you.
Before now, my past pregnancies have only been understood in theory by the little dears running past my feet. They only made story time in the rocking chair uncomfortable, mom tired, mom grouchy, and mom big. (Hence the grouchiness.)
But this time around has been different. Andy and Kate get it. Kate doesn’t hug me goodbye in the morning anymore. She hugs the baby goodbye. Yesterday after her swim lesson, I asked her instructor how things were going. She replied,
“Well, she’s very excited about getting a new baby.”
Andy has exhibited a dear sweetness towards all baby girls lately, as if practicing for our own little pink burrito. Of course, when I bring this up, he just shrugs and regales us with his sad, tragic tale of the favored first born son who has since plunged lower, lower and lower still on the family totem pole with each new addition to the family. “Remember when it was just us?” he sighs in an exaggerated exhale. But my mommy instinct tells me he’s gonna melt when he holds her for the first time.
Even Luke has firmly decided I’m not “fat” anymore. Each time I attempt to shimmy around the kitchen table, or squeeze my way through a crowed hallway, he’s sure to note “how big the baby is getting.” Not how big I’m getting. (Which used to be his go-to phrase.)
And this morning he felt the baby kick for the first time. I had tried to help him feel a kick or two before now, but the baby would decide to take a nap and he didn’t have the patience to place a gentle hand on my tummy all day. But today the baby cooperated. She gave a big kung fu kick just for him. He lit up. So it is all real!
And Dean? Well, for him it’s all still theoretical. He prays for “the new baby,” but he has no idea his world is about to be rocked, big time.
But I’ll still rock him.