One Year Ago...

OH I was so so so so so so tired of being huge and unable to climb stairs at a trot. I was so tired of waiting really.

I was anxiously trying to convince my body that the braxton hicks were really real labor, really they were - if you would just go on and progress already. Anger had been a fairly constant companion thru this pregnancy - unleashed inwardly as much as possible to keep from scarring loved ones with sudden bursts of temper about "why do you have to clean your teeth that way!!!?????"

I was trying not to be angry at Steve for insisting that sleep was both necessary and smart.

Then I dreamed of sharp stabbing pain. And finally woke up with it. And oh, all the waiting and the being huge and all the impatience went out the window. The pain took away all that.

But you know what took away even the stab of the pain? The idea that I was leaving my baby girl to go have another baby - and how would she feel? would she feel abandoned? replaced? Would she understand what was happening? Would she know how much I loved her and only her at that moment? (yes I loved baby Jack in utero but it's different - so hard to really visualize loving another human as much as Abby). How much, at that moment, I just wanted to shield her from life and morning.

I gave her five or six hugs and kisses, ignoring the pain, savoring her sweet and simple fear and that I made it go away enough (at least for that moment) for her to be happy for it to be time to say hi to Jack... She was heading into the unknown and felt it, but in the end, she was tired of waiting too. "Love you too Momma"...

And then those final seconds, making sure we had everything we needed for delivery - knowing this time there'd be plenty of time to ask people to bring anything we forgot post labor. Hugging Zoozy who'd woken up at the first ring and who rushed over in cute sweats and glasses.

And after all the impatience, that last feeling of, "Oh boy, wait a second... I'm not sure I'm ready for this." That last impulse to hang onto a piece of furniture - to the present and how things used to be.

But hey - that pain isn't getting any better, and I haven't' forgotten the impatience SO much that I don't want to go back to that place.

So off we went in our brand new car. Traveling in the dead of night the same road that in the bright morning we'd brought Abby home on.

That familiar excitement, tinged with oh yes this stabbing pain. And starting to get a little annoyed at Steve's excitement, because I know very well his isn't accompanied by stabbing pain... and couldn't he drive a little faster with a little less JOSTLING?

Wanting to cry and shout victorious and hug someone for reassurance all at the same time.

and praying of course. non stop... unceasing.