As the date of our big move from the U.S. to Canada approaches and we shuffle from one generous friend’s abode to another, this pregnancy, the little growing one all snug in my tummy, often seems to take a back seat (not in the back of our Volkswagen Golf, but in the back of a very long bus)–which makes me a little sad. Aside from the slowly, and finally, dissipating constant nausea and fatigue, my little tummy buddy hasn’t gotten much air time in any sense of the word over these last 13 weeks.
I can remember the last time I shared my body. It was a little over two years ago. From the day that joyous pink line appeared across the plastic pee stick, little Noah Finn was all that I could think about despite the fact that I was working everyday. I woke up and thought pregnancy, I peed (a lot) and thought pregnancy, I taught and thought pregnancy, I ate (a lot) and thought pregnancy, I slept (very little) and dreamed pregnancy. My growing abdomen was always on my mind.
This time is definitely different. Running after a bouncing, bounding, boisterous toddler while volleying between temporary living situations has certainly captivated the time that I don’t spend eating and sleeping. The fact of the matter is that constant urges to snack and slumber aside, I often forget that I’m pregnant.
What does all of this mean? Is it normal? I am betting so. But it certainly does recall those initial pangs of subtle trepidation I first experienced when pregnancy test number two revealed yet again that solid pink line: sharing the love. How does a mama who has experienced everything about mommying–pregnancy, birth, mothering–with one child not feel guilt about sharing such sacredness with another? It feels almost like cheating on the first.
Melodramatic? Perhaps. But, these are real anxieties, that while slowly fading as the months tick away, remain present nonetheless.
So, how does a mommy share the love–that smothering, doting, gooey love that’s gushed all over the first with the second and subsequent bundles of joy? Will my little Noah feel shortchanged and left out the decision making process–after all, he had no vote here!? Will he harbor feelings of abandonment and isolation, regress and insist on learning the alphabet Z thru A?
Think I’m being melodramatic, again? Perhaps. But these are tangible fears that I sometimes think about. That is, when I remember I’m pregnant anyway.