What one forgets

A couple of weeks ago, I felt Emmeliese moving much differently in the womb. Instead of feeling big flops and kicks, for the most part, I feel lots of stretching and pressing. I don't know why, but I never remember this point until I panic for a bit that the baby movement is decreasing. I wake up four or five times a night, having not felt her move and then remain wide awake until I feel a little foot in my diaphragm or an arm pressing a little more insistently into a bladder. When I think about it, I remember that the other children did this, too, when they got to this growth point. There just isn't enough room for a baby to do big dives any more. But it's always a little disconcerting in the interim.

I also forget how uncomfortable it gets to do simple things like sitting because there's always something pressing against internal organs. And I forget how small the bladder becomes and how a full cup of warm tea can agitate a little one into a bladder-punishing, tummy stretching free-for-all.

And I forget how amazing these last few weeks are -- how discomfort exists hand-in-hand with this incredible awareness of this little person growing inside. Or how energy can be rock-bottom, but a targeted surge can arrive on cue to sort baby clothes or organize a closet. Or how the Non Stress tests can seem so inconvenient but often reveals itself to be a little weekly or semi-weekly gift -- an opportunity to absorb the music of her hearbeat, relax, breathe and think about what comes next.

I'm glad that I'm remembering these things now. And I also am wondering what else I've forgotten!