It's the final week of the second trimester, but it certainly doesn't feel that way. Lately it's felt more like the last few weeks of pregnancy, with the endless backache, the unbecoming waddle and the wide-eyed fear in people's reactions when I tell them my due date and the fact that, no, I am not having twins.
Discomfort and exhaustion aside though, I am mostly frustrated that we still have such a long stretch ahead of us before we meet this new babe. The kids seem to have baby fever almost as badly as I do - they want to read books about new babies and becoming siblings, and tell me about all the adventures they have planned for new baby. Rob and I spend our nights talking about the baby that will soon be sleeping on our chests as we watch our late night shows - reminiscing about sweet newborn noises, their stillness, their smallness.
After knowing this love twice already, it's a cruel waiting game. But it's worth the wait. Always.