Scary stories from a lovely place
Tomorrow it all changes. Today we are three. Tomorrow we become four.
Three seems more do-able than four. With three one adult is still free. One can hold the baby while the other sleeps or cooks or goes out for the night. With four both adults are occupied. Who knows what happens when four becomes five. But that shouldn’t be for a while for us now. Promise.
It’s pretty weird knowing when I will have my baby. I’m not under any suspicion about when I will go into labour or querying every strange pang. The tension is gone. But the fear remains.
This afternoon we went for a walk down to the beach at Coledale. It was a particularly lovely afternoon, clear blue water, no wind, flat ocean, huge ships creeping along the horizon, grey/green bush as far as the eye could see, crisp air. Silas played in the grass and flirted with the sand. Stephen panicked about blue bottles. I tried not to lope around like a pregnant ape.
I guess in a way we’ve been four for a while now. I especially notice this when I’m holding Silas or rocking him to sleep and he has to perch upon my swollen belly, receiving the occasional prophetic kick from his younger sibling. It will be cool when they can kick each other on equal terms, not through layers of flesh. And that will be tomorrow.