Especially now that I know the little being who eventually graced us with his presence:
1) Feeling him move. It was a comfort on a practical level, since his movement is the only day-to-day reassurance pregnant women have that all is well in there. But it was also comforting on an emotional level--I enjoyed knowing that I was never truly alone during that time. He was sharing my space.
2) Holding my hand on my belly. I loved to sit at my desk with my palm
splayed across my hard stomach. This is the universal sign of a pregnant
woman. I felt like I was holding him, maybe resting my hand on his tiny
rump as he snoozed. Sometimes, I find myself sitting that way now, and I
quickly move my hand away, lest any passers-by get the wrong idea.
3) Ultrasounds. These little windows into another realm were treats that we received more frequently than many of my pregnant friends for reasons I still don't quite understand. We seemed to have an ultrasound every 3 weeks. The most amazing ones: seeing the baby (Munch!) suck his thumb and watching him flail his arms and legs. Of course, me being me, the moments at the start of the ultrasound, before the familiar whir-whir-whir of the heartbeat came through, were terrifying. But that made the payoff of seeing his little face that much sweeter.
4) Buying stuff. I love to buy stuff as a rule, but buying baby and
nursery stuff was purposeful and necessary. Okay, maybe not everything
was necessary. But going to Great Beginnings and looking at furniture
and bathroom stuff and feeding stuff was wonderful, even those many
times when we left without buying anything because we were so
overwhelmed by it all.
5) The anticipation. Pregnancy is a magical time. Anything is possible. That little lump is anyone. Hubbaland and I talked about name possibilities for hours. We wondered dozens of things at once. Will he be a massive, 10-pound baby with a huge head? (We thought so, right up until he popped out at 6 pounds, 15 ounces with a very normal head, thank you very much.) Will he be a she? (I still think Dr. J spilled the beans at 24-ish weeks, but Hubbaland doesn't.) Will he have red hair? (We think so.) The anticipation in hindsight is infinitely sweeter knowing the wonderful baby we were blessed with that day. Well, the wee hours of that night.