Two months from today, I will be holding Phoebe in my arms instead of my belly. We’re all warming up to the idea, though I just can’t seem to imagine what it will be like to actually have a third child in my charge, especially since I still haven’t figured out where I’m going to put her clothes. But it satiates my nesting desires to arrange, rearrange, and rearrange them again. Conversely, it’s given Dave an eye twitch and a stiff neck. (You should see what happens to him when I bring up the subject of transporting all three kids in the van.)
Not a day goes by that Julia doesn’t ask, “What do you think Phoebe will look like?” We’ve all placed our bets on the color of her hair – I say brown, Julia says blonde and Lucy says orange. Dave hasn’t made an official bet, although when she comes, you can be sure he’ll tell us, “I told you it was going to be (whatever color it is).”
Lucy has been looking at the ultrasound photo album I made with regularity. She points to the pictures and says, “Mommy baby belly! That’s Phoebe!” And she’s progressed from smacking at my bump to laying her cheek against it to feel her sister move, seasoning it with kisses and telling me, “Phoebe’s cute!” She mothers her baby dolls and even pretends to nurse them because, “I a good mommy! I love baby!”
I’m not sure what inspired the change in Lucy’s attitude. I’ve considered that it may be actually feeling the baby or seeing so many ultrasounds or all the books we’ve read and talking we’ve done about it. Dave seems to think it’s the two new molars we discovered peeking out of her gums yesterday. I think Julia’s excitment has helped. I love that she’s so proud to be a big sister.
Julia has been deeply involved with this pregnancy to the point that she became convinced, one night after a watermelon binge, that she was also pregnant. She requested “one of those sticks you pee on” to verify it. I tried to explain that it was impossible for her to be pregnant, but The Virgin Mary didn’t do anything to help me on this one and Julia just can’t see how the birth of Jesus could be any more special than the birth of her baby will be. At least she’s willing to take vitamins now. And she’s naming her daughter Stacey.