A year of trimesters has passed. On this day last year, I took a pregnancy test. Positive, it read. I was pregnant, again…for the second time this year. I was hopeful. It was a year of sometimes painful, sometimes uncomfortable, always cautious, sweet anticipation. I was having my little guy. Exactly one year later, he is a almost four months old. Exactly one year later, I sit here watching ‘Call the Midwife’ on Netflix and I reflect on my call to my midwife.I can’t help but feel the need to reflect on the four trimesters past.
During my pregnancy I read a lot. And almost everything I read said to keep a journal of the details of your pregnancy so that you can look back (on a day like this) and fondly remember the details of your pregnancy. Clearly, I didn’t do as advised. And so, with my ‘baby brain’ I will see what memories I can conjure up. Which feelings and moments stand out enough to paint a clear picture in my mind.
The year passed by quickly, yet slowly. Each trimester brought with it new feelings, sensations and revelations. Each trimester, three months long. Each trimester, distinctly different. Each trimester, my baby and I learning, growing, and developing. Sweet anticipation. Where do I begin? My memories seem a blur. The logical place to start would be with the first trimester. This day, last year…with that positive pregnancy test. But as I stare at my little guy sleeping on my chest, my thoughts are only of the present, right now. Memory isn’t linear, it’s fragmented and so are my recollections of the four trimesters past. Thus, I’ll begin with my most recent of memories. The fourth trimester.