Just Before The Birth Again- Japan- Pregnant- U... Here

But this time? Just before the birth again, there is no sprint.

In a few days, I will no longer be pregnant. I will be a mother of two. The house will smell of formula and laundry detergent. The toddler will have a meltdown. The baby will cry.

Let’s not romanticize it too much. I am scared. Just before the birth again- Japan- Pregnant- U...

But just below the guilt, there is a strange, expansive peace.

The world has become very small.

— A very pregnant mother in Tokyo.

I am no longer a tourist in this country, nor am I a seasoned local. I am something in between: a mother waiting for a second child to arrive. The cherry blossoms have long since fallen. The rainy season came and went. Now, it is the dog days of summer, and the cicadas ( minminzemi ) are screaming their death song. It feels appropriate. Something old is about to end. Something new is about to scream. But this time

Right now, as I type this, the baby is doing somersaults. A foot—or maybe an elbow—is dragging across my right rib. I am drinking barley tea ( mugicha ) which is supposedly cooling for the blood. I am watching the shadows grow long on the tatami mats.