The worst part of being at the end of my pregnancy is waking up at night. I just get up a couple times to pee, but often the second time I have trouble getting back to sleep. That is the time when I often obsess about small, traumatic images from our last day with Lev. That is the time when it is most raw, most real. I am transported back to a moment in time- a phone call telling someone of the news, Lev's grabbing my thumb in an early seizure as his last semi-aware act, scenes from the ambulance ride, images from the hospital- the memory of a moment comes back, crystal clear haunting of my nights. In the middle of the night, I just don't want it to be real. Tonight the moment that came flooding back to me was the phone call to Zay's parents. In the memory of those few seconds of hesitation before I tell his dad, I can feel it all again, just like the first day. I find myself out of breath and overwhelmed by the desire to find a way to rewind the clock, to find a different outcome, to make that not really a part of my life; I just want Lev back.
A real cry leaves my belly aching, as I don't have the muscles for it anymore. After crying, I rub my belly and let her know it's not her fault. Sometimes I can read and go back to sleep, or sometimes I just need to get up for a while because I'm too awake and I get hungry.
If I'm going to be up for a couple hours in the middle of the night it seems like I may as well be up with a baby. I guess that will happen soon, but in the middle of the night soon is not enough. I'm due in a week, and eager to hold the baby.
