Musings of a Mum: 34 Weeks
Hey there, my little cantaloupe:
Today, as I was listening to very old Cocteau Twins and resting my hands on my belly, I swore I was touching what felt like your knuckles. I had a vision of you reaching out to my hand with your little hand, and suddenly my being flooded with happiness.
I keep thinking I am still in the adjustment phase to the 3rd trimester. But I don't seem to be adjusting well at all. I never feel like I am finally at a plateau and may rest, but I am instead hiking up a steep and steady incline, with no rest in sight. Everything hurts, including my heart and brain. I laugh now, but I had a breakdown this week of such a pathetic nature. Clothes make me cranky anyway, and now I have very little that doesn't cut into my growing underbelly and it's VERY uncomfortable to wear anything but yoga pants. I tried to change into a pair and those also didn't work so I had to fall into a crying spell on the bed. The logic of trying to find something else more comfortable evaded me and instead, the world basically ended.
In between the aching feet, uncontrollable emotion, bouts of anxiety, heart-palpitations followed by eerily shallow breathing, stabbing SI joint pain, neck immobility, unrecognizable body, bloody noses, little feet jabbing my rib-cage, and inability to get comfortable in just about any position, I do find moments of excitement. This week, we had dinner with our neighbors who have a 1-year old. As he and I locked eyes, I remembered how much I love babies and how now I would have my very own, how I would now smile so much more each day, how our house will be filled with the sweet smell of baby, and how this pregnancy will most assuredly end. Indeed, I will be considered full-term in 3 short weeks!
We have finally made some progress on your accommodations. You will not be sleeping in a themed nursery, sorry about that. You will instead be sleeping with my old books; you'll have to learn to share the space with them. We put your curtains up, have your crib to assemble, organized the closet so I can place your boxes of hand-me-downs away, and will be on the lookout for a vintage dresser.
I have no fine advise or wisdom this week other than being thrilled by a brilliant speech from Captain Picard regarding the afterlife. My brain seems to be on autopilot, just surviving the days - which seem insurmountable in the morning but always surprisingly transient by bedtime. I ponder how your entering the world will come about, and I long deeply for wisdom and peace surrounding it, and so I read, but keeping in mind to prepare for the unknown, to plan to not plan. For some, it seems reading a lot of books made their preparations more worrisome...but for me, information (the more, the better) has always been a way to ease the unknown.
The Voice
4 comments:
Boo for feeling so yucky... hurrah for your beautiful face and belly none the less; that Radiohead baby suit (!); and a room filled with books - which sounds like the ideal room for a babe to be in to me... Love you.
You still look great, despite how you feel. I pray the next 3 weeks will fly by for you. xx
oh crm. i was going to say "you can do this" but then i realized it would be more accurate to say "you ARE doing this, and HAVE done this" --- it's hard for me to feel like i have anything to say to you since you walk ahead of me on ground i've not yet covered. but i can put words to what i see, which is you honestly and candace-ly doing this. which is difficult to watch sometimes (because i hate to see you suffer) and also inspiring (because i've seen what you do with suffering). mostly it wrenches my heart (in the good way) to see you letting this all happen to you...the feelings, the tears, the elation, the uncertainty. you're ever more beautiful, thoughtful, fascinating, real. you're ever more yourself. all my love to you, the saint, and your petite etoile...
RADIOHEAD ONESIE!!!
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