The end is near.
I can feel it in the heft of my stomach.
I can hear it in the labor of my breathing.
I can track it in those hollow, in-between moments
when I've gone somewhere else,
my surroundings forgotten
and those around me left wondering
where I've disappeared to for a beat of time.
Until this 39th week of pregnancy,
little guy has hardly slowed my roll.
All the pregnancies have been this way.
Not that I don't fight through
a brutal first trimester,
or experience the
holy-bloody-hell-what-is-happening
of labor and delivery.
But I know how good I've got it:
baby-making comes pretty dang easy to me.
There are always the crap times, though.
Mine are the first fifteen to twenty weeks,
and, now, this last bit.
Today was extra special.
And by special, I mean shitty
{save for the morning,
'cause I hung out with a good friend}.
Basically, I hit a wall with the Littles.
There was a lot of yelling and not a lot of patience.
There were tears and an over-abundance of time outs.
I can blame it on this nasty cold,
which has turned my head into a throbbing snot-ball.
Or I could chalk it up to the pressure
of a belly that's ready to explode outward, Alien-style.
Either work.
But I still feel bad.
Because they're such good kids.
Seriously.
They're really, really good.
And I don't want this last week
of mothering only three
to feel negative.
For my sake and theirs,
I want these coming days
to soften the blow of what's to come.
Like a cozy, mommy hug that sticks to their ribs.
Baby's arrival is a wonderful thing,
but it's also a new thing.
A world-rocking, huge thing
- one that comes in an adorably small and fussy package.
So, despite the cold and this quickly failing body,
I'm going to dig deep,
because my tribe deserves it.
And I deserve it, too -
to leave this time of my life behind on a high note.
To love my people, the ones in the here and now,
with my whole heart.
I'm not sure what that looks like, exactly,
but it sure doesn't include another afternoon like this one.
Perhaps a few more bedtime stories,
an extra treat in the lunch box,
a lovey snuggle with The Russian.
Definitely more hugs and kisses.
Love for all.
That, I can handle.
And baby will feel it, too.
I just know he will.
So, in this home stretch of
last-minute plans,
endless pee breaks,
and round ligament pain,
I will shoot for love.
Love for my tribe and the here and now.
