DON'T TAKE MY FETUS AWAY!

We're having our thirty seconds of sun for the day. I'm in the dining room, looking out at our dogwood, which has finally flowered. That tree was one of the things that drew us to this house. It was this week five years ago that we paid it a second visit to confirm that we wanted to make an offer. There was something about it that spoke to us--Mr Bunny loved that it had the same layout as his grandparents' house in Providence, I loved the sun room with the french doors opening out onto a downward sloping lawn where we could play croquet. And, though this may make you gag, as I walked through it that day I had a vivid image of our children scampering about, running up and down the stairs. That image was one that tormented me quite a few times over the past years, as I imagined us growing old and grey in this house, all alone.

I'm trying hard to visualize what it will be like to come back to this house with my very own child.  Quite possibly this time next week. I just can't do it. Or more accurately, I can't make it feel real. All that feels real right now is the bundle of parts squirming around inside me. (By the way, it's bizarre how there comes a time when the fetus begins to feel very much like a baby--somehow although I never know what's what, it's clear that there's something with arms and legs and a rump in there, very baby shaped!) Bun Bun is so safe in there, and his little movements feel so contented and secure. I don't want to be separated from him.

Maybe it's partly knowing that he doesn't get to decide when to emerge--ready or not, out he comes in a few days. It might make me feel extra protective. Maybe it's knowing that parenthood is a slow process of separation, that we'll never be this close again. Maybe it's actually got more to do with anxiety--I know how to be pregnant at this point, but I don't know how to be a parent. Maybe I'm afraid to learn.

Mr. Bunny is all athrill with anticipation--soon he'll be part of a triad instead of watching me be a dyad he can only enjoy from the outside. I know there are wonderful things on the other side of this door we're about to step through. Still, I'm glad I've cleared my schedule so I can spend all my time appreciating the last of this extraordinary, miraculous experience.