Posted by Duff

Tonight I sat enjoying the ease that is late second trimester: absence of morning sickness (knock wood), a pleasant bump that is apparent to strangers but still allows a good range of movement, regular nudges from the inside that don’t yet take my breath away and remind me all is well.  My food aversions have taken a sabbatical. I’m usually pretty comfortable, even if  still  a mouth breather.

This is the honeymoon of pregnancy.

It’s the perfect time to daydream of what a new person will look and be like, to romanticize.  I’m doing that. Even having a child already, I don’t ascribe tantrums or sleep issues or whining to this child.  I think it’s nature’s way of protecting me, and assuring that I’ll give birth and then take good care.

I watch my belly ripple softly under the influence of MC, who has not yet had a chance to test my patience. I dream sweet dreams of soft curls and cooing, as if I’ve never cleaned vaporizing cheese out of  a secret hiding place, carried a kicking screamer to or from anywhere, or kept a wide-eyed vigil over a sleeping but feverish child with questionable breathing.

And this is when The Dervish hands me a freshly picked booger.

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