I feel big.
I am actually not that big at all. I see other women who are full term and they make me feel tiny and slim. 9 weeks left. I am getting ahead of myself. Getting impatient.
I want to labor. I want to feel the damn-near crippling pain of contractions and get to observe my body being strong for the third time. I want to experience that fucking crazy ride all over again. i want to feel like my bones were ripping apart, while just barely remembering, somewhere in the back of head, that they arent. that i can’t be harmed by this.
I want to feel her slide down and slip out of me, and receive that explosion of hormones that make me love her on sight. everything will be covered in fluid and i will splash hot blood all over the floor. i want to meet her. i want to see her hair plastered to her head and covered in vernix, tiny arms waving like kelp. i want to hear her first squawks and mews when she realizes shes outside and is shocked and confused about how that all just happened. I want to see Jim’s face, again, when he watches another daughter appear. last time.
i don’t want to wait 9 more weeks. i want to labour now.
this is supposed to be my last baby. two weeks after blaze was born i knew, with absolutely clarity, that she was the middle child.