Wait for my next trip to the bathroom, wait to fall back to sleep after each nighttime bathroom trip, wait for the next carb- and protein-laden meal, wait for the next "funny/weird physical thing due to being pregnant" to manifest itself, wait for my hips/joints/belly to "settle" whenever I change positions, wait to find a comfortable position when the previous one proves to not be comfortable anymore...
Wait for the next kick from each baby to reassure myself that they're okay, wait whenever I feel a contraction to see if it's still just Braxton-Hicks or is it something more, wait for a few seconds whenever I stand up to see if this will be the time that my water breaks...
On the one hand, I hate waiting. I hate the not knowing, the having to be patient while things that are out of my control continue to be out of my control. When they were handing out patience, I was apparently too impatient to wait in line to get my fair share.
But on the other hand, I'm oddly at peace with the waiting. Each day that passes seems to flash right on by- it seems like just a few minutes ago I was waiting for the results on Baby A's weight at our 32 week ultrasound and that was well over two weeks ago... which means that while I've been waiting, the munchkins have been growing. They've been getting bigger and stronger and more ready to survive and thrive outside the womb. And that makes the waiting seem like a small price to pay if it means that the peanuts are benefitting from it all...
34 week belly
(sometimes I forget just how big it is
until someone who hasn't seen it in a while
reacts to its size. Halloween seems like an
appropriate time to have this big of a belly
because I keep scaring friends and family
with it)
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