The Three BearsJanuary 14, 2010 at 9:02 pm | Posted in Bun | 4 Comments
My husband and I agreed from the start that we wanted three kids. Kind of, sort of. He definitely wanted three; I was definitely open to the idea. “Let’s see how I’m doing after actually growing and birthing one kid,” I said. Somehow, I did it. Twice. And, now, once more unto the breach I go. Bun is in the oven.
A Piece of Peace
I got to hear his heartbeat today at the doctor’s office. Not the first time. We’re well on our way, Bun and me, so I’ve seen his lovely profile on two ultrasounds already. Heard his little heart before. Still, there is no sensation quite like the one that comes over me when that “shwuh, shwuh, shwuh” sound fills the room. It’s soothing and rhythmic. It’s peace, relief, excitement, joy all in one. Everything, for a few seconds, is perfect.
As with every pregnancy, every baby, Bun is a little different. He likes Root Beer and pretzels and lettuce. (And M&Ms, but maybe, OK probably, that’s just me.) He doesn’t so much kick or stretch as he rolls around doing slow somersaults or maybe triple back-handsprings. He roots SEC. My kind of kid.
Call Me Goldilocks
We had nicknames for both Lollipop and Giggles in utero, before we decided on their actual names. But, in typical third-child fashion, Bun doesn’t really have a nickname. (I mean, well, if you don’t count “Bun.”) When I’ve exceeded my daily Rolaid allotment, or when I try — and fail — to reach my toes so I can dry them off after a shower, I call him the “Third Turd.” I blame the hormones.
My husband came up with the best nickname, though. The Third Bear. Because with Bun’s arrival, our little family will be complete. Our three bears. Just right.