Me: What does Mommy have in her belly?
Baby: A baby.
Me: That's right. Can you show me?
Baby pulls up the hem of my shirt, bends down and lays the gentlest of kisses on my swollen belly. Damn, where's a camera when you need it?
Me: Awww....thank you, baby.
Baby: This is my baby.
He tugs his shirt up to reveal his own little belly, laughs and then runs after the dog. Huh. So much for sentimentality.
So here I am, posing in front of the bathroom mirror, wondering when in the hell I was told I was carrying multiples. Whoa, hold on there. I am NOT carrying more than one baby *wipes brow and exhales,* but I sure look and feel like I am. "Women tend to be bigger their second time around..." I am told by my doctor. Regardless, I feel like I am carrying more than one. This pregnancy is so different than my first that I am beginning to think there might be some truth to the whole carrying a baby girl versus boy mythology. Of course, I have no idea right now, but I wouldn't be entirely shocked if I was told a girl.
The moment I found out I was carrying can be described as nothing short of pure joy. With the sleeping wonder, I was nervous, scared and so utterly unprepared that I thought I would be doomed to fail as a mother. With baby #2 on the way, I am beyond excited, scared yes, but the thrill of having two overrides any apprehension I feel.
So what does this mean for our small family unit? I am not sure yet. And to be honest, I am trying not to over think it too much. We still are in awe of our little one who seemingly grows overnight and has become articulate enough to ask the music to be turned up and the windows to be down on a hot day. No lying. This actually happened today. Asking for any more happiness seems greedy, I know, but I'll take it.
