I just read Lesbian Dad's post about taking their last trip as a threesome before the baby arrives.
We took that same trip last year. A last whoop-dee-doo for the three of us. We travelled all the way up north to the Gunflint trail. Literally a stone's throw from Canada.
It was lovely. But now, looking back at the pictures, something (someone?) was definitely missing.
BioMom and I were having a conversation with someone recently (a man) who was talking about a friend of his (a woman) who could not conceive and the grief she felt over not "feeling life in her womb".
As a woman who will probably not conceive, I have not had that distinct urge or felt that grief. I wondered about this feeling aloud to BioMom the other night, probing about what I will ultimately miss. She said it was wonderful. Amazing. Incredible, but also a bit surreal. And she also explained a little about what I had suspected already. That, looking at Big, here, in real life, it felt somehow that the person inside was different than the person outside. That, somehow, it didn't feel like Big was inside.
I look back at those pictures in a similar way. We called him "Itsy" not knowing if it was a "he" or a "she" and having no clue about the personality that was about to become a unique force in our lives. In those pictures (and remembering back at the photographer -- me -- taking them, the person prior to the galactic shift) we seem to almost be looking for something. Waiting, perhaps.