When I was pregnant with my first I felt bonded immediately. I instantly knew that the pink line on that test was our Maxwell. I told people, “oh I know him, he’s a kind, zen, sensitive little person.” They kindly patted me on the head and said, “yes, pregnant lady.” Sure, I knew he’d be like any other small child, often full of energy and adventure, but I was right. Yes, the messes he creates aren’t the first thing one would associate with “zen” but overall I hit the nail on the head. He is my perspective. He is my lighthouse during the storm. Max is pretty sensitive to his own mistakes and to the feelings of others. I knew my baby and I was so very proud of that.
This pregnancy? This pregnancy I feel a little… unprepared? I bonded instantly in that we were very excited to learn I was pregnant, and due to the high risk nature of this pregnancy, because I felt so frightened of losing this pregnancy. Beyond that elation and that fear though, I have no clue. I thought it was a girl in there but can honestly say I wasn’t sure. I was right, she’s a she, but I have no clue what she’s like. She moves around a lot more than Max every did. She feels stronger somehow, but I don’t know her like I knew him. Perhaps this is because I haven’t the time to focus on her like I did with Max (a reality that already makes me a little sad) because I’m busy with a full time job and a two and half year old. She’s quietly and safely tucked in my uterus, so she can’t particularly command my attention like he can.
I don’t feel guilty, though. In some ways I feel excited. I can’t wait to meet her, watch her grow, figure out who I’ve shaped and grown.
I have no clue who we’re bringing home from the hospital this time, but I do feel certain of this, she’s one of ours.
Elsbeth Magilton 