Just this week I realized, courtesy of my baby registry’s countdown, that there are fewer than 100 days until my due date. I am closing in on the end of the second trimester at a rapid pace, and I can’t help but want everything to slow the heck down! At my birth class on Sunday, our instructor joked that there were really only two phases of pregnancy: the first eight months, which fly by, and the last month that seems to crawl at snails’ speed. I can attest that the first half of that statement rings true for me, at least it has so far.
Take said birthing class for example. It’s a 16-hour course spread over four weeks. When we started, Lee and I thought it would feel like it might never end, but we only have one more class left. How is that even possible? Wasn’t it just February? Where is all this time going?
Part of my desire to slow things down is purely practical. We still have so much to do before this babe arrives. … Take a breastfeeding class and an infant CPR course. Finish the nursery—because even though our bub could care less about the color of the walls, the last thing I want to do on maternity leave is break out the paint rollers. We also have a few home improvement projects in the works that we want to wrap up, like adding more storage space to our tiny home—so all the new baby things have a place to live beyond the boxes they were delivered in. See what I mean? SO. MUCH. TO. DO.
But the other reason I am wishing I could push pause on the great cosmic clock is that I feel like I am running out of time with Lee. I realize this sounds a bit silly. Neither of us is going anywhere. But knowing that Birdie’s birth day is fast approaching has made me acutely aware of how we spend our now limited time together. And it has made me fiercely protective of it. There are so many weekends that I want to shut out the world and forget about Target runs and eye doctor appointments. And sometimes we do, but other times we are running dangerously low on toilet paper.
In lieu of a time machine that can turn back the pages on the calendar, we’re trying to make the most of any amount of minutes we can cobble together, whether it’s a half-hour stuck in traffic, our weekly stroll around the grocery store or lingering in bed a little longer on Saturday mornings with cups of tea. Every once in a while we’ll splurge on a date night, but I genuinely prefer the boring, normal stuff—when we get to enjoy it, instead of rushing on to the next thing. That’s the stuff I cherish because that’s what I’m worried the most about losing.
I know there will be days when it will be easier for one person to stop and pick up the milk than for both of us to load up Birdie, the diaper bag and the carrier to run the exact same errand in triple the amount of time. And yet, I’m sure there will be some days (albeit not every day) we’ll choose to take “the long way” because that extra time will be worth it if we’re all together.