As a first time mom, one of the things I anxiously awaited most was Drake’s first movements. I wanted to know what it would feel like… weird, bubbly, emotional. Week after week I would touch my belly and prod it, wondering when the little one inside me would finally greet my movements with one of their own. I didn’t feel Drake until around 28 weeks! I used to joke that he would be born and I wouldn’t have ever felt him inside. Most likely flutters had happened, but as a first time mom I just didn’t perceive them until I got that big affirming kick.

Juliet was the exact opposite. Always active and moving, I felt her tiny sliding movement hours after my NT scan at around 13 weeks. It was wonderful to feel that little flutter and know it was her inside. I admit I had a hard time bonding with her at first simply because I feared what life would be like with two. The traumatic newborn days I had with Drake also flashed back, and I fretted about the idea of rocking Drake’s world. When Juliet made her presence known to me, it helped me connect with her. And as if she knew, she never stopped moving from that moment on. With Drake I would sometimes prod him just to check in, but Julie moved consistently enough that I always knew she was there, waiting patiently or impatiently perhaps with her little jabs to come out and join our family.

IMG_044611 weeks

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This little one seems to be a good mix of the older siblings. I started to feel what I now understand to be flutters around 14 weeks — earlier than Drake but later than Juliet, but the movements aren’t as active or swift as Juliet’s were. I wonder with the motion and chaos of chasing their siblings around, this one is rocked to sleep for much of the day. At night when I finally lay down and breathe, it’s as if baby knows it’s finally time to stretch their little legs and I get a flurry of small movements to end my night. It’s a nice way to end my day, as well as a feeling of assurance most mothers get in knowing that all seems well inside.

As I lay in bed savoring these little kicks and flutters, it has also dawned on me that every first with this new baby will also be my last. These small tentative kicks, so new and marvelous for the little one growing inside of me, will most likely be the last I ever feel. It’s such a bittersweet realization as every first of my last little one is also my last. When I dream forward about sleepless nights and breastfeeding struggles, I take joy in knowing they will also be the last of those days. But every little new discovery will also be my last as well.

I have been blessed, I know, to have been able to take this journey three times now. But in a lifetime it still seems to be such a short period. A lot of this I think has to do with the idea that my child bearing years are coming to a close. As this book reaches its end, it’s also the end for me in many ways; the ending of trying to conceive, waiting for that pregnancy test to light up, watching my body transform into a growing house for a new life, and all the other moments good and bad that come with pregnancy and having babies.

I realize that the ending means new beginnings too. Once the last sleeps through the night, we might all get some sleep again. Once we are out of diapers we will be saving some money. There are plenty of good things awaiting us as our family grows and I am excited to meet those days as well… especially the ones where I can feel rested before the caffeine IV. It’s just battle of emotions as I celebrate the idea of new horizons as well as the closing doors of older experiences. So as I lay in bed and feel these tiny little flutters, sensing them as they grow stronger and more sure of themselves, I try to take it all in. Marvel at all that my body is doing in housing and growing the last puzzle piece to our family. So for every stretch mark, ache, and expanding weight, I greet you in a way I haven’t previously, for this time I know it’s for the last time.