That’s me, March 4th of last year. 39 weeks pregnant. I certainly felt huge, but in comparison to lots of belly photos… no way did I look 39 weeks. This is an average 34, at best. I blame Paulo being so high up that his butt was continually wedged in my ribcage. This did spare me the constant pressure on my bladder – but I really was begging for him to “drop” – which never happened. Typical Pisces, didn’t want to commit to being born. Not even when I was in labor. Wanted to keep his options open.

As his first birthday is drawing ever closer, there’s been a lot of talk around here about “last year at this time.” Much of it is focused on this gigundo belly and how unwieldy it was. This has been one of the mildest winters we’ve had – Mr. Whuffles has worn his fleecy snowsuit all of twice – which is really balancing out last winter which was pretty much the SNOWIEST. EVER. I had weekly OB appointments due to gestational diabetes, and not only were they almost always rescheduled due to storms in January and February, but I had to get ready an hour before to leave time to both clear snow off of my car and then inevitably run upstairs and change my clothes after I was soaked through. It was pretty impossible *not* to be covered in snow with such a big belly. Nuno and I have been reminiscing about such things as “Do you remember how you had to zip my boots for me because I couldn’t reach my feet?” Good times.

It’s so hard to believe that this was only a year ago. It’s so hard to believe that it’s already been a year. Time is so weird.

The hardest thing to remember about my pregnancy was not knowing this baby. Looking back now, of course that wiggly little man inside was my Whuffle. But at the time… I didn’t know he had big blue eyes or my mouth or enjoyed Schubert or anything. I knew he was wiggly. I sensed that he was a sweet and social baby – he did always want to “chat” with the doppler at my OB appointments. It was certainly the most surreal part of pregnancy; having this guy inside my belly and not knowing who he was, and it’s the hardest part of it to remember clearly.

Just one year ago, my Whuffle was still a mystery to me. He wasn’t even The Whuff yet, he was still “the Piglet” – though by 39 weeks pregnant, I guessed that “the Tigger” would have been a more appropriate nickname. It wasn’t until that first whuffle that he became, well, my Whuffle.

I’m still reveling in the little mysteries: What exactly is on his mind when he “chats?” What are the things he has to tell me? What does he want to see and do in this great big world? And oh… this might be the kind of thing that’s unique to me, but even more than I can’t wait for him to talk, I absolutely can not wait for him to draw. As much as I miss holding him with the absolute bare minimum of wiggling – I’m even more excited to get a glimpse of how he sees things, of what he imagines.

So here’s to finding the answers to the old mysteries and getting excited about the mysteries to come.