Friday, September 25, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Patience may be a virtue, but it's not one that I possess in great quantity. I hate waiting. It's not something I've ever been very good at. I was raised to be punctual (almost to the point of paranoia). I hate being late for things - for class, for work, for church, for bed. I get sweaty palms and a racing heart. Usually, I putter until the appointed hour for departure. I keep busy, finishing off projects, practicing the piano for a few extra minutes, reading a good book (but not really being able to focus on it).
Today we went to the doctor hoping for a more defined ETA for our little bug. I left feeling deflated.
For the last three weeks the report has been the same. 1 cm dilated. 50-70% effaced. Head at 0 station. No change.
I guess there’s no outward change, but my body feels different. I feel an increase in my energy levels (on the whole). My abdominal muscles are constantly sore (like I’ve just done 100 sit-ups). I have less room for my internal organs (like my lungs, and my bladder). And it’s like I get a daily deep tissue massage . . . from the inside out. And I feel like I’m sitting on a bowling ball most days.
None of these symptoms are unique to me, but they give me hope that the end is not far off. The most interesting symptom is the “nesting” instinct. I’ve spent my days catching up laundry, dusting corners, sorting piles, getting out the autumn decorations. I still have a rather long list of things that I could and should be doing, but I’m finding it to be increasingly difficult to focus on the tasks at hand. Instead, I’m distracted by the waiting.
I find myself wondering what he’ll look like. What he’ll smell like. What he’ll sound like. I want kiss those little fingers. I want to suckle and swaddle and nurture. And then I get all anxious again because I’m a victim to a timetable I have no control over.
And then I get anxious that I’m not ready for the next step. I worry that I won’t be able to figure out this mothering thing. Will I really feel that unconditional love that women talk about? The thought is far to abstract for my finite mind to understand without the concrete weight of a baby - my baby - in my arms. Am I ready for the paradigm shift - to go from counting weeks to counting months? Am I fit to help this little soul find his path in this big world? Am I equipped with all I need to remind him who he is? Waiting is not good for my excessive sense of worry.
Therefore, this week, since I am doomed to waiting, I am determined to put this anxious energy to good use. After all, there are some definite advantages to being home and “in the interim.” To list a few:
- Mornings with Brent. We actually have regular time together for the first time in months. It’s been nice to start the day together.
- Discovering the art of snacking. Since there’s only room in my stomach for about 1/4 c. of anything, I am becoming a professional grazer.
- Having time to read. I’m re-discovering Charles Dickens and finding the discovery to be literarily delicious.
- having time to find my voice again. I’ve been missing writing. A lot.
- Having time to be self-sufficient. I bottled chicken this week. All by myself. For the very first time. Self-sufficiency has got to be one of the best feelings . . . hmmm, “if ye are prepared, ye shall not fear”
- De-cluttering. I breathe so much easier when my house is clean. It’s a good feeling. I can enjoy perpetuating that feeling while I have the energy to do so.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Many have been requesting pictures of my ever blossoming belly. Sorry the quality isn't better - I need to get some taken outside. However, this gives you an idea of how big I'm getting. I'm definitely feeling pregnant. Here are some of my "symptoms":
- I itch all the time.
- My little guy loves music. He starts a wiggle fest whenever I turn on music. It’s been fun to see how he reacts differently to different kinds of music - hymns vs. Michael Buble vs. Beethoven vs. James Taylor. The funniest part is that if I start to sing, he almost immediately stops.
- Weird cravings? Just Slurpees and cornbread
- Whereas it used to be fun to feel the little squirt squirm around in my belly, it's started to take on a slightly uncomfortable edge. It's not bad, but it's definitely not like it used to be.
- Brent has to be ever patient with my emotional instability, and he does so.
- I'm getting so excited to meet this little guy!