The Good Part

We have made it to 26 weeks, that delightful middle season of pregnancy wherein you are very obviously pregnant and enjoying all of the physical sensations of growing a little person inside, but not so far into the process that the birth of the baby sounds like a welcome respite from discomfort. I feel like my body has remembered what it’s doing now— or maybe I have remembered what I’m doing. In either case, this is a lovely time, a quiet place of simply being part of a process and waiting to see who God is knitting together.

We had our last CC community day yesterday, and all of the 6th grade girls in my Enhanced Masters class were so excited to talk about Decimus. Their general consensus is that this is a girl, and they all made me promise that in the fall, when they have moved on to Challenge A, I will let them tote her around at lunch time. They also told me not to name her anything “trendy,” but couldn’t exactly define “trendy” except to say that most (but not all) names from t.v. shows, movies, and popular YouTube channels should be avoided. Nature-based names and fantasy names from books—especially those that sound slightly fairy or elvish—were given the thumbs up, as were traditionally male names crossing over to unisex territory. During this conversation, the boys in the class offered options like, “Blade,” and “Rocco,” and drew battleships in the Pacific Ocean on their dry erase maps. As miserable a reputation as middle school has  in general, I have to say, this group is delightful and engaging and not half as navel-gazing as one might assume given their ages.

Most of the community seems to be voting girl. Currently, I am voting girl. But I am notoriously wrong about these things, so I probably shouldn’t actually get to make a guess. At home, everyone but Simon, Birdie, and Jude say boy. Birdie is hoping for a little sister to break up the long line of maleness and get the chance to pass on some of the girly skills her sister has shared over the years, and the younger boys think it will be nice to have a little girl “to take care of.” Apparently, little brothers need no such oversight even if they are eight or nearly six years behind in age.

I head to the doctor next week, and am poised to begin the more intense schedule of NSTs and BPPs that traditionally mark the third trimester of my pregnancies. Lots of chances to check in on little Decimus, and keep praying over who he or she is, and will be. And only 11 or 12 ore weeks to go. Time has flown. I’m really enjoying this season of anticipating this new little life, and am so blessed to have so many others sharing the journey!