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On pregnant motherhood

Today on my lunch break, as I readied my lunch bag for a picnic at the park, a coworker said, “better enjoy every last moment of alone time you have left!” She is a mother of three, a very lovely woman, and she chuckled in a good natured sort of way. For a moment I was confused by her comment— because though I am 8 months pregnant and very, very round in the belly, I sometimes forget how obvious it is that my son is nearing his arrival.  I finished packing my lunch and drove to the park to enjoy my “alone time.” Birds chirp above me now as I type these thoughts on my phone. They are looking for snacks in the grass and on the concrete floor of the gazebo.    I am not sure I have any alone time left, if I’m being honest. I think my alone time has been gone since I first saw those two blue lines on the pregnancy test. An early Saturday morning, my hunch confirmed, I walked sullenly down stairs to my husband and handed him the test, unable to say anything but “look.” I felt like cryi

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