There are certain milestones that a pregnant woman finds herself relieved to have hit. Among them: the end of the first trimester (when the risk of miscarriage dramatically drops), the mark of viablility (when the baby, technically, could survive outside the womb), and then the 37-week mark (when the baby is considered full-term). I remember feeling particularly happy about reaching the first two, and now I’m in awe over the fact that I’ve hit the last! The baby, so to speak, is fully cooked – and it would seem there isn’t much to do but wait…

With that said, the shrinking countdown doesn’t mean I’m just sitting around like a cool cucumber. In fact, my head has been filled with lots of nagging questions/concerns these past weeks – and my worries seem to be lumped into three handy categories:

-Labor: What if I go into labor early? What if the pain is worse than last time? What if my platelets aren’t high enough, or I get to the hospital too late, for my (very necessary) epidural?

-Baby: What if something is wrong with the baby? What if I don’t love her as much as Zoe? (And: how can I possibly love her as much as Zoe?) What if she is colicky or unhappy all the time – i.e. the exact opposite of how Zoe was?

-Zoe: What if Zoe feels abandoned, unloved and/or sad after her sister’s arrival? What if I never get to spend quality time with her? What if I always feel a little guilty for disturbing our happy family of three?

I know these thoughts are so not unique, and I try to keep in mind that something good is about to happen. Besides, I also worried a lot (about labor, the baby, etc.) the first time around – and things turned out pretty well!!

-M

Q and I have been a little lazy with the whole potty-training thing, but we recently decided to make a last-minute push (no pun intended) before the new baby arrives. After a couple of promising attempts, Zoe went the entire day without diapers or accidents yesterday. And when she woke up this morning, the first thing she said to me was, “I’m wet. Will you change me, Mommy?” (The first thing she normally asks for is milk.) It feels like this is the beginning of the end of the diaper era, and I’m pretty excited about it – but not for the reasons you might think. My happiness has less to do with the hassle of changing her (which, after 2.5 years, I’m used to) and more to do with the pride I see on Zoe’s face every time she does her “big girl” thing. She gets so excited when we praise her, and you can tell she feels good about pleasing us. (She also, in turn, likes to cheer us on: over the weekend, she started clapping when she saw me going to the bathroom. “Good job, Mommy!”)

I know we’ve got some more work to do, and there’s a (good) chance Zoe will regress when the baby arrives. But for now: I’m a pretty proud mama.

-M

Yesterday morning the three of us took a Wonderbug Adventures class at Stern Grove, just down the street. The theme was caterpillars and butterflies, and Zoe learned all about cocoons and metamorphosis, danced around like a butterfly and went on a little nature hike. (Illustrating just what an urban kid she is, Zoe wondered aloud whether we would see any “choo-choos” – i.e. street-cars – in the woods.) Though we didn’t spot any real butterflies (too chilly for them to be out, I guess), Zoe did get nice and close to a banana slug. Her assessment of him? “He’s wet. He needs a bath.”

-M