So, none of you, on any side, can blame me for the outcome. You know they won’t be counting my ballot.
Just like four years ago, this year’s election will most likely find me somewhere near or around the maternity floor.
Yesterday I saw myself in the reflection of a door at the outlets and saw a pregnant person. Up until yesterday, I had seen
a. someone who had clearly outgrown all of her clothes
b. someone who was really trying to hide something with her wide belt
c. someone who was possibly pregnant
Yesterday, the ruse was up. (For me. The ruse probably ended for the general public much earlier.)
You may have no reaction.
You may be reacting in astonishment: “Another child? But they don’t even have a place for Travis’s shoes?!”
(Travis’s shoes, and fear not, this carpet is leaving us before Tres joins us.)
Actually, that is what I am thinking. And Sweet Baby Tres may be sleeping in one of Travis’s shoes. I hear everything is more relaxed with the third.
Here’s the deal. I am an Awkward Pregnant Person. Meaning: there will be no reveal parties, no photos, no journaling. And when people mention it, I get awkward. Since it’s my third go, and I’m still this way, I’ve accepted it. And my Awkward Pregnant State seems to play no part in my Immediate Latina Mother Bonding with my children.
The truth is, pregnancy is mystery for me from start to finish. They tried to hand me some 3-D ultrasound pictures at our 12 week and I handed those horrible gummy troll things right back. I prefer the early ultrasound that just shows that blinking light of the heartbeat, I’d be fine if that’s all I got the whole time. I think I’d also be fine with looking at the moon at about 42 weeks and musing that “my time is almost here.” Due dates are psychological torture devices, nothing else.
And with the very biggest things in my life, I have trouble calibrating my emotions to match. So what comes out is a mixture of awe, fear, with a faint tinge of excitement. Our family is growing and changing and each time the sweetness and miracle of that has been beyond my comprehension. This time is no different.
So, I tread lightly, as if on holy ground. And this may be a billowy-tunic type pregnancy, as opposed to the fitted shirt ones of my past. Not because I’m hiding it, but more because I want to hold the mystery close, just one more time, just a little bit longer.