On the outside

It's a little weird for me, at times, to be sitting on the sidelines during this pregnancy. I say at times, because mostly I am blissfully once-removed from the biological process that is wreaking havoc with poor AnnaRay's body. But there are moments, like when I see the full swell of her belly as she rises from a chair or the bed and I'm hit with the realization - as if for the first time - that there is a baby growing in there, that I feel a twinge of desire to be the one carrying the burden.

You'd think that if AR's daily complaints weren't enough to banish any such desires from my head, then the numerous reminders I left for myself while pregnant (in journals, emails to my future self, notes stuffed in books) that I do not want to be pregnant again would provide adequate guard against such wistful and foolish feelings. But alas, you'd be wrong.

Perhaps it's because I don't actually remember being pregnant. When I read things like this in my journal:

When people ask me how I'm feeling, I say great! And I mean it. But it occurred to me last night that I'm actually quite uncomfortable. I guess I only notice it at night - the bloated feeling, back pain, and difficulty breathing that makes it hard for me to fall asleep, not to mention the constant need to pee, which keeps me from staying asleep - so it's easy to forget during the day, when people are most likely to inquire after my physical well being. During the day, I just feel tired. Wiped out really.

it's like reading words that were written by someone else.

The one thing I do remember was feeling the baby kick, though as Anna feels the new little tiny move inside her, I realize I don't remember what it felt like so much as that it was the one part of being pregnant that I enjoyed. I had this to say about it at five months:

Sometimes, Anna can feel the baby kick when we lie in bed with her hand on my belly. It's boring when the baby doesn't kick.

And this a couple weeks later:

This is definitely the fun part. I feel the baby all the time now. Sometimes it's little pops; sometimes it feels like something swishing around.

At seven months, it seems, I became a little monomaniacal:

It has become my new obsession, staring at my vast abdomen watching for the little (sometimes large) movements that make my tummy roll like jello." I have also felt it imperative that ... anyone else in the room ... see it happening too. Or at least feel it. But the baby never wants to cooperate and put on a show, so I end up holding someone’s hand on my belly for five minutes, then give up and let them have their hand back, only to feel the little tiny kick again.

So I guess it's not all that strange when I hold my hand on AR's belly these days, I feel a little like an outsider excluded from the party. I wonder if expectant daddies ever feel that way.