As I’ve written before, I had reservations when I got pregnant about actually having a baby, but after prayer and meditation, I began to believe that parenting was something I could do, something that I would even want to do and that I needed to have faith. In God. In myself. In her. In other people.
Her delivery was the first (the hardest?) application of this faith.
To complete the Trimester Lesson Trifecta, (Parts One and Two) I am now posting (after Wee One was born) some lessons I learned in the third trimester. It was easier than the first, though harder (read: less comfortable) than the first.
My mother’s family has a particular brand of baby talk, as I imagine lots of families do, and part of ours include special names and pronunciations of things, and I have recently been calling up one of them – my yumpy sock.
Wee One just dropped this week, and while the rest of this pregnancy has been a breeze, I’m starting to have some of the difficulty that other women have. Not that that’s a good thing, but I know it stems from her growing strong! Go me for giving her a good environment to grow in!
When i feel her move, I like imagining what she looks like and what she’s experiencing. What does she think of the music she can hear? Can she feel my hand push on a spot or tickle her foot?
When my husband goes to Wendy’s, he always brings me a Frostie. Even when I don’t ask for one he brings me one, because he says he heard Wee One ask for it.
I’m feeling the Braxton-Hicks get stronger. (Not that this is a good thing, but wow!)
I’m crying at all the schmaltzy “mommy” things like I never did before. And I’m not even embarassed.
I”m getting things wrapped up at work to take my leave – I just decided tonight that it’s going to be sooner than I originally thought.
I’m less afraid of the idea of sacrificing things for her, and even looking forward to the trade off of her snuggles in exchange for something less pleasant.
I’m looking forward to the torrent of love I get to pour over her and wrap her in.
This is the best thing I never knew I wanted, and I don’t want it to pass too soon.
When I first learned I was pregnant, I was lost; overwhelmed by swirling thoughts of anxiety and fear. I sought insight from dear friends and internet strangers, and one idea from these searches struck me: No matter the fear or anxiety or dread I felt, this Wee One was created by the stong and beautiful love I am lucky enough to share with Cohiba.
When I was pregnant, everyone was all about “warning” me about what was coming next. I walked around much of those ten (let’s face it, pregnancy is ten, not nine, months) absolutely terrified. The warnings flew at me from every angle — in the checkout line at Target, on the street, slipping my shoes on and walking out of the yoga studio. Warnings, warnings everywhere about what was to come — from the excruciating, mind-numbing pain of childbirth to the shell of my former self I was about to become once I had her. There were times I felt like a prisoner on death row, trying to force myself to enjoy some tiny luxury despite my size and discomfort, because if you asked around, apparently my petty joys would be ending pretty soon!
“Enjoy your husband now — you’ll be so consumed by the baby you won’t spend any time alone together…
Some of the, sometimes, worst things about this adulthood trap are the deadlines that follow us around. Some of them are smaller and less pressure than others, currently, I am under the most pressing deadline of my life: the birth of my child.