Oh, pregnancy. I've settled into it deep. It isn't new and it isn't almost over. It's just thick and normal and it sits in my mind, a default mental state of anticipation. It takes over during quiet moments and buzzes louder and louder until someone asks me for help fastening their shoe or hair clip or superhero cape, interrupting the chatter in my head.
I've done this enough times to observe that I am going through a process. The questions that I keep asking myself (the who and when and how kind of questions) can't be answered -- not by my midwife, not by my mom, not by Google -- but I recognize now that asking them helps me feel ready, mentally, to labor, to deliver a baby, and to make a space in our family for someone we don't know yet.
I have stood in completed nurseries in other years, listening to the same buzzing, touching tiny blue and pink things, and trying to stretch my brain big enough to see into my stomach and glimpse the person who would live in that baby-room and wear that baby-stuff. Of course it didn't work. Clark and Alice were and are so much more than what I saw or felt or dreamed during those days. I had a suspicion when I first saw their faces, and they keep proving it more and more with every passing day and every bit of unique complex personality that emerges.
I am stretching my brain again, grasping for invisible clues to what this boy will be like. Fourteen weeks to go.