Sometimes I think I’m doing this wrong.
Lately, in the weeks since your brother has become stronger and more active, as we are less and less worried about the defect that hurt you so badly, we are starting to become attached to this tiny manchild that still makes me throw up on a regular basis. This is still a very different pregnancy. I was trying to put it into words with Daddy today. It’s as if I believed the assumption that I would have a living child by Christmas, but I never actually believed you would be born (and dammit, it still doesn’t make sense). Never really feel like an actual baby would arrive, never really believed I’d be a parent. Lately, its the opposite. I actually am starting to believe that he will be here, breathing and pink and alive, but I can’t just assume it will actually happen. Even though when I was assuming you’d arrive but I couldn’t believe it.
I’m talking in circles, but I guess I’m thinking in them too.
I feel like I’m doing this wrong because I’m starting to get attached to him. Starting to love him and want him and prepare for him, in different ways than I loved you. I never had the luxury of really preparing for you to arrive. We found out you were a boy for sure the same day we found you were leaving us. I’m pragmatic and concrete, and I couldn’t plan for a baby I knew so little about. Call me sexist for needing a peek between the legs before I could get anywhere, but its true. The idea that there’s an entire person inside me is so hard to fathom that not even knowing if you were a boy or a girl was just one disembodying step too far for me to follow. Now that we know more about little E he’s becoming more of a “real” boy to us.
Aren’t I supposed to still feel all detached? Aren’t I supposed to be withholding my heart to protect myself? Aren’t I supposed to doubt until he’s safely here? I look in the mirror and I see this glowing, joyous pregnant woman. I picture him in ways I never really pictured you. Isn’t that wrong? Isn’t it too soon? Isn’t this premature celebration?