The Pregnancy Files: Thirteen and Still Desperate for Love

The Pregnancy Files

Circa April 24th

I saw my little one just before Easter.

He kicked and karate-chopped and put his hands over his face just like his Sissy.

It’s amazing the difference a month makes.

And in no time the cool outside will be Fall and I’ll buy a pumpkin that will grace his first baby pictures.  And I’ll wonder how my girl will handle the sharing of love.  And indeed we’ll all have to share some love… all three of us.

All two of us.

Because we’ve been sharing each other since the day she was born– splitting our time (and our hearts) between pushing really high on the swing and laying on the couch in contented silence.  Going to the park and going to the movies.  Morning cuddles with the fruit of my womb… or the fruit of my prayers.

But this morning I read this.  And I remembered how quickly the wedding pictures were packed up and put away when we moved.  How I’ve brought out everything else- the coffee pot, the TV, the toy kitchen- but not the pictures.  Not yet.  As if the health and life of our marriage could wait until time slowed down and things got back to just us.  As if our love could be sat in a corner until the laundry was done and the kiddo was tucked in and that shelf in the bedroom was fixed.

But this morning I read words that reminded me how badly I needed him.  How three years old is impossible without him.  How in twenty-seven weeks I would want no one else beside me but him to welcome our second child into the world.  How empty my home is when he’s away.

UsSo as the keys jingled I jumped out of bed and ran to meet his goodbye in the hallway.  And I didn’t let him turn his cheek to my lips.  I forced him to kiss me for real.  Because that’s what it was the first night we kissed in Thailand when our hearts were all full of this thrilling new journey.  And that’s how he kissed me when I wore white and it rained and we walked out of a church and into a life.

And as he walked away he rolled his eyes and smiled shyly.  That smile that means he liked it.

Because what’s a kiss when he’s on his way to work at a highly uncertain job that simply pays the bills and is getting him through school?  What’s a kiss when the dishes are done now but will be a mountain by midday?  What’s a kiss when there are no clean socks and the stairs haven’t been swept?  What’s a kiss when the Pickle is waking up grumpy?  When I’m thirteen weeks pregnant with another person that will share our space and our love and our time?  What’s a kiss when our whole world is changing and moving like that blurry thirteen-week ultrasound?

A kiss is everything.

One thought on “The Pregnancy Files: Thirteen and Still Desperate for Love

  1. Kisses have nothing to do with dirty dishes, dirty socks, dirty diapers, messy living rooms, dogs that need walking, insomnia, discomfort, or anything else. They are their own. They are not rewards.

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