It’s 3:30 in the morning, again. Brad has scooted his body next to mine and unromantically draped his arm long ways down my body. The contrast of his warm body and the cool breeze of the fan is so comforting and I scoot closer to him sighing and pulling my pillow closer. Only moments later my hips feel the weight of the world on them, my bladder is full again and I mutter an apology to Brad as I fling myself out of bed, letting my arms catch me against the wall.

By the time I crawl back in bed Brad has rolled back over and I’m wide awake. My hips hurt, my body hurts and I start thinking about this life that is existing and growing within the walls of my body. Pregnancy is so hard, I think to myself. And then she will move, or press her body into me, and my mind is filled with images of a million baby faces. Her daddy’s eyes and my nose. My eyes and his smile. Her smile against her blonde curly hair, or her brown silky soft wisps, or my gorgeous smiling bald baby with blue eyes, green eyes, brown eyes. I think about what it will feel like the first time we hold her, the way the weight of her body will feel in my arms. I think about kissing her cheeks and squishing her little body close to me and smelling the top of her head as so many moms do with their newborn babies. I think about looking at her, and then looking at Brad and being overwhelmed with the intense amount of love that I feel already.

So many images pass behind my eyes during these 3:30 am dates with my mind. 9 months with a roller coaster of emotions feels like it lasts a lifetime. I drink in these moments with my husband, I force my mind to remember what it feels like when she moves. I dread the day that I forget her world inside of my body, that day that it becomes surreal that she was ever inside of me at all.

So these last 3 months I pray go slowly, that the emotions and the pain  and discomfort won’t take over. I do everything I can to enjoy Brad and I together, just the two of us. It will never be like this in our lifetime together ever again…us being our only priority. Dinner dates will become conversations about our children, their needs coming before either of ours, the love of my children threatning to take the number one spot over my husband.  I concentrate so deeply on the Brad I know now, the husband and not the father; the man I fell in love with and not the man that I plan to fall in love with all over again in 3 months.

I roll onto my stomach, resting my hand up against his side and lay there quietly, my mind slowing and thoughts becoming less put together. Before I know it I’m back to sleep again.

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