Home Stretch?

These days, I cry daily. Maybe it’s the hormones or just me being my typical emotional self, but everything just makes me cry. Last night I couldn’t stop crying because I kept thinking how awful it will be when we get older (hopefully) and one of us dies, leaving the other alone. I imagined Nicole sleeping alone in a bed and that pushed me over the edge. I cry because I am afraid I won’t be a good mother. Or because I am afraid of how much my (our) life (lives) is (are) going to change. I know we are ready— we’ve had that conversation about how we wanted our lives to stop being about just us and how we were ready for this—but still, it is a scary, scary thing. I want so much to raise these two babies and for them to say that they had great moms and great childhoods. While we were trying to conceive, I tried so hard to have strength, patience and faith. Looks like I still need a bit of those things.

Happy Mother’s Day to all, including those who have lost their babies and to those who are on the roller coaster and still waiting. Last year, I spent this holiday recovering emotionally from an IVF chemical and mourning the upcoming passing of my first due date. Two years ago, my SIL wished me a happy mother’s day because, she said, I am like another mother to my niece and nephew. Three years ago, I was convinced that I would get pregnant my first or second IUI. (Ha!) If someone told me this year I would be pregnant, I never would have believed it.

Tomorrow I have a doctor’s appointment and another non-stress test to make sure all is okay in there. Needless to say I am a little worried. I hope Dr. Nothing Bothers Her will entertain me and talk about end game this time. I want the babies to stay in as long as it takes to make them healthy but if they are ready by, say, 37 weeks, then so am I. Sorta. Uncomfortable is way too hollow of a word to describe how I am feeling these days. Back pain is my latest ailment. That, combined with my sore joints and extra-large belly makes getting up from a sitting position almost impossible. Even still, despite this pain, the control freak side of me likes having these babies inside. That way I can keep tabs on them at all times. And I’ll miss their constant companionship.

Pictured above is me…and my hand wound….at 35 weeks. I cannot believe we have made it this far. Are we really in the home stretch?