37 weeks. As far as the doctors are concerned, a baby born at this point is considered good to go. That's not to say that every day in the womb isn't beneficial, of course. 40 weeks is the best goal, for certain.
But there's a certain comfort in knowing that this whole thing could be done soon and no one would try and stop it. Ahh...
With the impending baby release date looming, though, I've been spending more time thinking about, watching and generally waxing maudlin about the two children with me already. I'm not worried, per se, though that plays into it, too. (Worry is my specialty, of course!) But things, they are a changin', and I feel distinctly nostalgic about the relationships I have now and what will be lost in the transitions to come.
Biggest of all looms the time lost alone with my girls. Each day there seems to be at least a few moments where I can just sit and be with each of them, individually, with nothing more between us then a book or a favorite toy. Anna is especially cuddly these days, almost to the point of leech-like tenacity. And even if I'm just sneaking in a nap while Silvia sleeps, I can count on her to come rest with me for a bit, pat me on the head as she wanders by and, almost always, cover me up with pillows to make me "comfortable".
With Silvia, it's more just a matter of holding on, in a very physical sense. She leans into me, she curls up on my (now nearly non-existent) lap, she grasps my hand on the stairs. She's still little, but soon she will seem so very, very big by comparison alone.
I'm not trying to romanticize the girls. They are still ornery and loud and get into their sibling wackiness with alarming regularity. They're also best friends with nothing to come between them. The status quo we've established, the ability to "share mama", is about to be challenged. I know, without a doubt, that they will insanely love this new child. But now they have to share mama in a whole new way and it's bittersweet. I, too, have to learn to split my focus yet again, and that's a little sad, too. I'm finding myself putting off just about everything in the house that I need to do on a daily basis, from dishes to laundry and figuring out meals, just so I can sit and watch them play or make a paper airplane or re-read a random chapter of "The Phantom Tollbooth" while they press up against either side of me.
As hilarious as it seems considering how challenging things sometimes are, there's a part of me that is mourning the fact that it'll never be this "easy" again. And now, I'm off to get misty-eyed and sniffle over their laundry while making excuses for the perpetual mess their room has become since they moved in together.
Remind me of my maudlin regretfulness tonight when it takes yet another hour of theatrics to get them to sleep at night, okay?