We decided it’s time to ban the dogs from the bed. I am thrilled – I need my entire half of the bed to sleep and his presence was causing me to wake up more frequently than I already am. (Pregnant ladies need their sleep, trust me!) Zeeke is not taking it well. I don’t know which is worse, him stealing half of my side of the bed every night or the pacing back and forth he’s been doing for the last hour. (He’s spent most of his years NOT being allowed on the bed, this was a recent privilege granted in the past year. He’ll figure it out after a few nights of this whining and pacing. If we survive it.)

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After we crawled into bed for our evening talk-and-cuddle Denis says to me, “You did really well today! You didn’t even bite my head off for anything!” I guess that’s a pretty good sign that pregnancy hormones are in full swing. (I told him my good mood was entirely because he emptied the sink of dirty dishes before I got home from work. If he believes it maybe he’ll do it again!)

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There has been a thread of anxiety winding through me this week, most strongly today – and I imagine tomorrow as well. Tomorrow will be 35 weeks 5 days, the exact gestation when Devin was stillborn. Logically I know that the chance of something terrible happening on the exact same day is pretty much infinitesimal. My head knows that. My heart, however, is extremely jumpy. Every time I notice that the baby’s not moving right at this very second I feel a little hitch in my breathing. Logic is overridden; I poke around until I feel her little foot move. I feel bad that I’m harassing her, but hopefully this is a temporary thing. Hopefully once I get past this weekend I can breathe a little easier.

But still, the anxiety is not consuming. In fact it is still far easier than the first trimester ever was, simply because I do have the ability to check in with her, to feel movement any time of day, to provoke a response. The first trimester was before movement, before dopplers could pick up a heartbeat, and I had to wait weeks between ultrasounds. Those weeks felt like entire lifetimes. So I am encouraged that I am not nearly as scared or panicky as I was then.

I stop and think about how this was as far as I got with Devin. This was it, the end of the pregnancy, the end of the journey. I can’t quite wrap my brain around the fact that I am that far – even though we have bags packed, baby gear set up, birth plan in place. I still don’t feel done. I wonder if I ever will. I hold my belly at night, feeling her kick and move inside me, and wish I could freeze this feeling like a photograph memorializes a vision. I want this memory preserved in a box forever. It’s hard – and a little sad – because in order to move forward I am going to have to let go. Motherhood will be its own amazing experience. But this, this is unique, precious.

I have a professional photographer coming to take my maternity pictures on Wednesday afternoon. I am hopeful that she will find a way to give me a piece of what I am searching for, a way to keep forever a piece of this pregnancy, a reminder of its beauty and love.