Here's a rather blurry picture of my lil' lumberjack and me (with the basketball hiding under my sweater). So I'm just about to crack in to my eighth month of baby brewing. All things with a waistline are becoming my enemy... maybe I'll be wearing some festive muumuu's soon.
Anyway, talking with my midwife today it hit me that this new addition is just around the corner.
Which got me thinking about all those crazy bits of pregnancy/delivery that no one seems to tell us...
Granted, I've rambled on about this topic before... but there's a few more nuggets I just wanted to vent today.
* Due dates are the of the devil. No one should ever spin a small calendar dial... and say that your little miracle will likely be arriving on/near that specific day. It's just a torture tool really.
As the pregnant mama who feels she can't get a day bigger before imploding.. it's tempting to pin your hopes of 'relief' on that date. When the date comes.. and goes.. and you're still gaining mass by the second, you start to feel like the coyote that's run off the cliff and realises he's in mid-air. Then there's all the friends/family/well wishes who keep calling... and waiting by the phone... and 'have you popped yet?!'. (Our phone will be disconnected the end of February - fair warning).
* 'Sleep while you can before the baby comes' is the silliest piece of advice. Strap a bowling ball to your gut and have a nice rest... does it work? Every night, all night I'm on the rotisserie setting trying to find a sweet spot for sleeping. Every attempt to roll over has me envisioning a breaching whale crashing the waves for my poor husband beside me.
* Your water keeps breaking. Yeah, that was new to me with my last labour. I had always heard of one's water 'breaking' and took that at grammatical face value - it breaks, it's now broken, done deal. I never quite realised it meant you keep springing out like Ol' Faithful anytime a contraction hits. So be prepared - grab yourself some Depends (adult diapers) and ride the wave.
* Keep the man above the war zone. Most husbands find your labour to be almost as traumatizing as going to war. It's a blood bath. They come out veterans. Best to keep those guys up near your head - where you can comfort them with gentle words and reassure them that you are not about to be ripped in half by this miracle/monster down below. I remember at my last labour looking over at my husband and saying "are you ok?!".
* Slime and sweetness are strange combinations. A baby - a real live human - has just been pulled out of you. Mucus and blood and slime and wonder. They slap that sweetness down on your chest and in your euphoric joy you're kind of thinking.. "um.. eww".
I think it's a bit naive to tell new mamas that the moment they see their baby such a new well of love will gush from their hearts. There is plenty of gushing in this moment.. liquids are abounding. Love is a bit trickier to tap.
Maybe the first problem is if we are simply looking for love as a feeling.
That doesn't work in any avenue of life.
Feelings are for roller coasters and high school.
You will choose to love. You will live love.
You will nurse, and comfort, and clothe love.
Every day will unravel a new layer of your heart.
That love will thread a new name over your entire being..
It's a wild wonder.
A captivating craziness.
A glorious gauntlet.
So, now you know.