Musings of a Mum: 33 Weeks
The future: time's excuseto frighten us; too vast
a project, too large a morsel
for the heart's mouth.
(Rilke)
Little Lady Scout:
It seems I have lost my feet, but MY GOODNESS you have found yours! Perhaps you will be a dancer, a swimmer, or a spasmodic tree-climber. You are kicking and squirming and wiggling all day, so it seems. I feel a vicariousness in your movement, for the future has me kicking as well. All things seem to be getting harder and harder, right down to the most simple tasks of getting out of bed or making dinner. We've done very little to get your room ready, though we do hope to remedy that soon.
In addition to relating to your movement, I can relate to the pressure you no doubt feel around your body as you grow. I have to remind myself to take deep breaths and to say positive things to myself.
My favorites:
- Nothing is permanent.
- You cannot be pregnant forever.
- Birth will be beautiful.
- There is no right way to do any of this.
I journaled the other day that I have this nagging voice telling me I am not doing pregnancy right. The bigger I get, the more confidence seems to leak from my eyeballs in the form of tears. I am not feeling awesome, I am not refraining from complaining, I am not eating as well as I should, I cannot seem to tap into the positive energy everyone else seems to feel about pregnancy, etc. etc. Then, quite cosmically, I stumbled onto a chapter in "Birthing From Within" called Losing It that specifically addressed that there is no one or ideal way to get a baby out. For some, actually LOSING it will produce exactly the environment and energy they need to birth. It's so strange to me that you won't even remember it.
I am not sure why I am telling you all this other than it's relevant to our body and I do believe you will be curious about it one day. It is also an important life-lesson - this being gentle with yourself. Neko Case satirically sang to me yesterday, "Don't make mistakes or be human." I suppose what's difficult here is knowing what is or isn't a mistake for us. The next lesson in parenting, no doubt. Your father wisely said to me that just because I had learned to cope with anxiety in other areas didn't necessarily mean I would be a pro at it in all areas.
I am so future-oriented. When I pull up at the grocery store, I am memorizing my list and remembering my totes. When I check out, I am plotting the route back to the car. When I start the engine, I already know which way I'll be leaving out of the parking lot. I am so incredibly anticipatory that I live almost never exactly in the moment. I read a journal entry last night that began with, "I know I am disappointing my future self by not writing more about pregnancy." I may have learned to live with the tendency to be disappointed in my daily self, but the notion of taking cautionary pains to keep a future self from being disappointed is so revealing to me. Who can we be but exactly who we are? If there were a wish granted me today, it would be that all notions of future planning and expectations be blinded and that for even one day, I could be in the now. Alas, as it stands, I am writing this, but anticipating tonight's plans. What I think must be the lesson here is that I must learn to accept myself in the now - the self that can never fully grasp the moment - and that in that acceptance and kindness for who I naturally am is where I might find the stillness I crave.
You've started hiccuping this week. I notice it in the mornings when I slowly rouse and remember you are there. I subconsciously rub my belly and feel these consistent flutters. You are head-down, which is great news. Before I used to feel only one movement, and now when I feel a kick to the ribs, I also feel a great pressure on my pelvis - you must be stretching out. You are roughly the weight of a pineapple and your taste buds are developed. The Midwife says either you are big for your age or I have a lot of extra amniotic fluid. I've had heart-palpitations and shortness of breath come on quite suddenly this week, which knocked me out for a good day. This was also, no doubt, an onset for the anxiety.
We received your first books this week from Aunt Erin and Uncle Adam - and GOOD ONE's too! I set them carefully on the bookshelf and imagined you making a huge mess of them. It's your right. Your dad, a few glasses of wine into the night, stopped me this week and said that he suddenly was very excited to have a baby, and that it felt very good to feel. Indeed, my child. Very good to feel indeed.
Now our lives are changing fast.
I hope that something pure can last.
(Arcade Fire)
2 comments:
Oh Mme, I hear you... about being restless, future-orientated. There is this insideous voices that says we must do it "right" whatever this ambiguous right is - and yet, we can only do what we can and make the most of it. You have a beautiful rounding belly and it won't be there for much longer. I remember in the days after Reuben was born I actually felt a twinge of sadness that my belly was so limp and deflated. And beside me now my little boy wriggles and attempts to roll - I pull away from screen, I stop to savour this moment, before he's up and tearing around, trying being present, as best I can. Its all we can do, and need to. So much love to you beautiful lady.
These letters to your little girl are so tenderly poignant and beautiful. What a glorious treasure for her to read when she is older.
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