A woman on the train told me this morning that I was beautiful.
Maybe you are making me more beautiful?
I spend a lot of time focusing on all the negative changes, the increase in my nasal girth and fortitude, the new stretch marks, the swelling of various parts, the numbness in my fingers. But maybe I could change this way of thinking for the next few weeks. Maybe I could begin to embrace this wide expanse of smoothness that is now my belly - and maybe I could rejoice in the movements, knowing they will begin to slow very soon? Maybe I could think about how thick my hair has gotten or how full my lips look?
Maybe that woman could see how much I love you?
I want desperately to teach this baby girl how to love everything that makes her special. Maybe I need to start with those things in me? Maybe I could be less sensitive? Maybe I could actually begin to hear people's compliments and let the other comments roll off me? Maybe if I can do it, then she will be able to as well? I want her to feel confident. I want her to feel beautiful.
Maybe she could tell how long I've waited for you to come?
I know there will be times when I get angry about the way the world is. But for now, I have nothing to complain about. Last night our waitress came over and asked when I was due. By the end of the meal she was begging us to bring the baby in after it was born. We are nice. Nice begets nice. Maybe it won't be as hard for you as I sometimes fear?
Maybe I can make the world see me as beautiful, see you as beautiful, just by seeing them as beautiful?
Friday, March 5, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Anticipation.
I have had moments to look forward to in my life, massive celebrations. My wedding, the weddings of others, graduations, more moves that you can count on your fingers and toes, special trips, visits, and events.
Nothing compares to anticipating your first child.
As things go on, I find myself wondering how she's doing in there (there being my uterus) - not in the fearful way of the first trimester, more like... "hey there, hiya little girl, whatcha up to?" I wonder when she seems in the process of some crazy movement if it's because she's uncomfortable, or maybe bored, or may just curious to find a different view of things.
I wonder how big she'll be, what her personality will be like, and if she'll be healthy. I think she's perfect, but will she really be? Will she like words or numbers? Will she sing or dance? Will she be quiet or outgoing?
Now that we have half our room stacked with baby clothes, I cannot wait to see her in them. I can't wait to see how her father dresses her - if he favors his own urban, casual style, or if he gravitates towards the sweet dresses and matching hats.
I can't wait to baptize her. I don't know the Catholic service well, but in the Episcopal one, you have to promise that you will strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being. I want to promise to help her do that. If we can arrange it, she'll wear my baptismal gown. A long old-fashioned one that has miniature ruffles over a foot past where any normal baby would end. It's dramatic and gorgeous. I might need to wear a hat and a suit, just to compete with the drama of it all.
Last night I had my breastfeeding class. I went into it scared and lonely and I came out excited. I talked to the lactation consultant about how to ease the process after a scheduled c-section and she showed me information about skin-to-skin contact while still in the OR. Now I cannot relax from the image in my mind of having my sweet girl on my naked chest, with her loving father there beside me... even before they finish the procedure. I hope they will agree to let me do it.
Brief aside: If you want to waste several hours, visit etsy.com and look at baby booties. Even if you don't have children or don't want them, you cannot help but melt at the cuteness. Then when you imagine that the sweet girl wearing them is your very own, it is nearly unbearable!
I won't pretend this process is fun. And I won't pretend that it's getting any easier. I considered ordering take-out from work today, even though there is a deli two blocks away - because those two blocks felt cruel and cold and long. I am the person that used to walk 2 miles each way, just to get a small snack or a specialty drink on a weekend - I called it "wandering the planet." Now, my mind wanders and my body wants to stay put. In my office, I scoot around in my desk chair so I don't have to stand up... I call it my "crab walk" - but it's crazy. And I know I look crazy, I just don't care.
I am getting used to people staring. I stay perky in mood to avoid talking to people... if you say "Oh, I'm doing great!" then people don't press. And that's what I want, keep moving people, nothing to see here.
Oh, but there is... every day my belly is a different shape. At any given moment one might be able to see it move. My clothes are stretched to their limit. There is no such thing as camouflage - there is only looking pregnant and looking VERY pregnant.
And the time is finally close. A month from Monday will be my last day in the office. And there is SO much to do between now and then. And by mid-month, if she comes, she'll still be full-term. There is still plenty to worry about, but gratitude is seeping in. Seeping in with fingers crossed and wood knocking.
Nothing compares to anticipating your first child.
As things go on, I find myself wondering how she's doing in there (there being my uterus) - not in the fearful way of the first trimester, more like... "hey there, hiya little girl, whatcha up to?" I wonder when she seems in the process of some crazy movement if it's because she's uncomfortable, or maybe bored, or may just curious to find a different view of things.
I wonder how big she'll be, what her personality will be like, and if she'll be healthy. I think she's perfect, but will she really be? Will she like words or numbers? Will she sing or dance? Will she be quiet or outgoing?
Now that we have half our room stacked with baby clothes, I cannot wait to see her in them. I can't wait to see how her father dresses her - if he favors his own urban, casual style, or if he gravitates towards the sweet dresses and matching hats.
I can't wait to baptize her. I don't know the Catholic service well, but in the Episcopal one, you have to promise that you will strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being. I want to promise to help her do that. If we can arrange it, she'll wear my baptismal gown. A long old-fashioned one that has miniature ruffles over a foot past where any normal baby would end. It's dramatic and gorgeous. I might need to wear a hat and a suit, just to compete with the drama of it all.
Last night I had my breastfeeding class. I went into it scared and lonely and I came out excited. I talked to the lactation consultant about how to ease the process after a scheduled c-section and she showed me information about skin-to-skin contact while still in the OR. Now I cannot relax from the image in my mind of having my sweet girl on my naked chest, with her loving father there beside me... even before they finish the procedure. I hope they will agree to let me do it.
Brief aside: If you want to waste several hours, visit etsy.com and look at baby booties. Even if you don't have children or don't want them, you cannot help but melt at the cuteness. Then when you imagine that the sweet girl wearing them is your very own, it is nearly unbearable!
I won't pretend this process is fun. And I won't pretend that it's getting any easier. I considered ordering take-out from work today, even though there is a deli two blocks away - because those two blocks felt cruel and cold and long. I am the person that used to walk 2 miles each way, just to get a small snack or a specialty drink on a weekend - I called it "wandering the planet." Now, my mind wanders and my body wants to stay put. In my office, I scoot around in my desk chair so I don't have to stand up... I call it my "crab walk" - but it's crazy. And I know I look crazy, I just don't care.
I am getting used to people staring. I stay perky in mood to avoid talking to people... if you say "Oh, I'm doing great!" then people don't press. And that's what I want, keep moving people, nothing to see here.
Oh, but there is... every day my belly is a different shape. At any given moment one might be able to see it move. My clothes are stretched to their limit. There is no such thing as camouflage - there is only looking pregnant and looking VERY pregnant.
And the time is finally close. A month from Monday will be my last day in the office. And there is SO much to do between now and then. And by mid-month, if she comes, she'll still be full-term. There is still plenty to worry about, but gratitude is seeping in. Seeping in with fingers crossed and wood knocking.
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