Spotting

Since Roscoe's birth the pace of time has been marvelous.

Suspend. Individual days are made up of hours that are made up of minutes that tick, tick, tick, along. I take it all in, every last second, and remind myself to try to remember these moments, because they will never ever happen again.

Accelerate. Fifteen months have passed, the Summer of 2010 is over, and our little guy sleeps in his own bed, through the night (the swing banished from the nursery, once and for all!). He walks and runs, offering his love and affection all day long. Eats with forks and spoons, plays games that he makes up as he goes along, demonstrates a sense of humor, and an ear for a good beat.

I've been profoundly appreciative for both extremes of the pendulum of time.

Tomorrow I'll have 7 weeks behind me and by this time next week Little Sears will have grown to be a 1/2 inch long. Captivated by Time's continuous hand, I am not too surprised that this pregnancy, just one of the many parts that make up our life at this moment, moves at an about equal pace to the rest.

Last time, it felt like forever happened before I made it to seven weeks. Last time I was gripped with anxiety over miscarriage and other unfortunate events not within my control. Last time I had spotting and everything worked out just fine.

This time, I'm much more content. More relaxed. More knowing of what this process is, and how it works, and what waits for me at the end of it. Birth. A squishy little baby. A family of four. A sibling relationship that will last for a whole lifetime. We love Little Sears. And we've already imagined a good life with him/her in it.

Rewind back to this morning, when I noticed what is never considered to be a good sign: spotting.

It lasted through the morning and now nothing. I've had a few episodes of lower back discomfort, but I wouldn't categorize it as cramping. It's Saturday so there will be no confirmation of anything in particular until Monday at the earliest.

Suspended, we wait.