Countdown to Motherhood

I realized the other day that my pregnancy calculations have been off by a week for quite some time.  As of today, I’m 31 weeks pregnant.  Good god.  6-8 weeks and I could deliver.  That’s like ordering a package.  I’ve sent away for my baby and I’ll receive her in the customary 6-8 weeks…  

I’m suddenly feeling nervous.  I think it’s finally hitting me that there /will/ be a conclusion to this pregnancy; I’m not going to stay round and awkward forever.  I’m going to have to get her out of my body somehow.   I’m not afraid of the pain.  Having been in chronic pain since early teenagehood, the prospect of 24 hours of it isn’t really that daunting.  I think I’m more afraid of feeling completely overwhelmed.  I’ll push her out and Maggie will place her on my chest and I’ll say, “Oh my god it’s a baby. What do I do with her now?  Quick, put her back!”  

I’m actually going to have a baby.  My baby.  My own baby.  Not someone else’s that I’m holding and wish was mine, but actually my own.  I’m looking at Curtis in a whole new light.  He’ll be someone’s father in less then two months.  Ack.   I keep thinking back to times we stayed up all night in that chat room and talked about our futures.  He told me one day he’d like to be a father, and I talked about how I’ve wanted nothing more then to be a mother since the day I was born.  Who knew we’d fulfill that dream together.  In 6-8 weeks.

We got our last package of cloth diapers in the mail two days ago.  They’re so beautiful.  Such lovely patterns and they’re so well-crafted.  She’ll have the prettiest little bum on the whole island.   Curtis’ parents recieved the other package I won on Ebay, with $1’500 USD worth of baby girl clothes from 0-9 months (which I bought for 75).  They’re going to bring it up in September when they visit, as we have a hefty supply of sleepers, layettes and a few outfits to last us that month.     Good lord, we’re actually going to dress someone in these, they aren’t just hanging there to look pretty…

She’s starting to get very cramped in there.  She pushes her arms and legs out like she wants to stretch, then gets frustrated and pounds at a spot until she gets bored and falls asleep.  The other day she started kicking my cervix very hard.  It hurt terribly; it felt like a knife.  When I went to the bathroom later there was spots of blood from the beating.  Thankfully, by evening she moved just enough that her punches would land somewhere less painful.

According to my pregnancy calender she’s almost 4lbs.  That’s almost as big I was when I was born.  My father has written in his poems of how he held me in the crook of his arm moments after my birth, and my arms stretched out to grab him.  He read the poem to me with tears in his eyes, remembering that very precious moment as if it were happening right before him.  I can’t imagine doing the same to my own child so shortly… and truly knowing what he felt then.

— Babs



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