There are only two months, give or take a few days, until I meet the little boy in my belly face to face. I'll be honest about it: I'm completely terrified out of my mind. Which, I think, is not a bad or strange thing to be.
(Especially because back when it was looking like I might not be able to get pregnant, I consoled myself sometimes by reading horrible birth story blog posts and horrific online articles with names like, "What No One Told You About Childbirth". This was a terrible, terrible idea for a coping mechanism, because now I'm just thinking about What No One Told Me About Childbirth all the time. You know why No One Told You? Because you don't want to know.)
But the point is not that. The point is that this whole thing has just gone by a lot faster than I expected.
I mean, I love him a lot and so I'm very excited to actually see him, but it's pretty wonderful being able to hold him so close to me all the time and not have to share him with anyone. I guess that makes me a greedy baby hog which, I think, is also okay.
Time is like a piano falling from a twelve-story skyscraper. Nothing but matchsticks soon. Suzy, I say to myself sometimes, I say, Suzy: resistance is not only futile; it's stupid. Let it drop.
So here I am at 32 weeks, right in the middle of my third trimester, with both an end and a beginning in sight. I'm tired, but I'm happy, and I'm afraid, but I'm excited. The nursery's not finished, but at least I've been remembering to take my vitamins.