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tales of something simple - 39 w.e.e.k.s.

i believe

Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.

all types of chaos

39 w.e.e.k.s.

Today I felt empowered.  I walked 2.1 miles and was completely oblivious if anyone was in fact watching me lip sync to Eminem, Jennifer Hudson, Black Eyed Peas or Destiny’s Child (yes, they are still in my iTunes).  I hadn’t walked this fast in 9 months and I was a lady on a mission…produce a baby!

I have not had the easiest pregnancy.  By far not the most difficult, but not the easiest.  Baby has always been healthy and happy, however my body has not always appreciated or supported all of the fun hormonal changes.  From vomiting up every single thing I put into my mouth (including brushing my teeth) from weeks 5-21, an unsightly rash that has covered my stomach, back, butt and thighs to a fun scare regarding my blood count, it has been eventful.  As I walked today I realized that when this journey began, even before it did, I could never have anticipated what would become of me upon going from normal-me to pregnant, Mommy-me.  I thought about how much I have physically changed, how much emotions run your life and just how great the fears and excitement of parenthood envelop you.

I don’t have words for it.  I do not have an adjective that is good enough to explain how I feel about having and meeting this child.  There is nothing I can write that would give that sense of excitement, anticipation, nervousness, and just plain happiness I have when I think of what is to come in the days ahead.  There is literally nothing I can say that would do justice in expressing just how much I love this being.  It is intense and powerful and beyond explanation.  It is being a mother.

I look back and I realize now, without having known then, the sense of responsibility I would come to know.  I have been this baby’s home.  It’s place to grow, to become a person, to start a life.  Everything I do, everything I eat, every single everything I do, I do with this little human with me.  I shape it, I take care of it, I worry about it.  It has started the long course of what will be my motherhood.  While I have accepted and embraced this role, it has changed me in ways I couldn’t have predicted and don’t always have an easy time of swallowing.  Somewhere in this time I forgot about me.  I forgot about taking care of me mentally (giving myself a break) and I stopped taking care of me physically (sleep and rest).  I felt such a need to do and to prepare and to know everything that at one point I had an entire Saturday to myself and couldn’t think of  a single thing I wanted to do for me.  I couldn’t remember the last time I had done something just because I felt like it and it didn’t consist of errands or cleaning or working or fulfilling obligations.  In addition, any time in between was spent worrying about whether I was going to be a good Mom, a good wife and second-guessing my capability to be good at both.  I looked at my husband and genuinely feared “Will he still love me?  Will he love me as much as this little baby?  Will he ever look at me again, as someone other than his child’s mother?  Will we remember to make time for dates and kissing and flirting?  Will we ever be the same?”

I told him all these things.  He listened so intently.  He hugged so hard.  He wiped my tears ever so gently.  He couldn’t understand entirely what I was going through in my head and I didn’t mind.  I just appreciated that even though he didn’t always feel the same, didn’t always know the right words, he stayed.  He listened.  He held my heart delicately and whispered that he would never leave me alone.

A good friend of mine said the most interesting thing to me the other day that literally vibrated my core.  She said “you go through a kind of grieving.  You step from one life into another and while you aren’t saying goodbye to the way it was, your relationship changes.  Your body changes.  Who you are changes.”  She looked at me and I knew that when her first son was about to born 10 weeks ago she felt what I am feeling.  She still feels, even if not on the same level and in the exact way, what I feel now.

I feel like I never loved my body enough.  I never appreciated the curves I had or the ten pounds I always felt I had to lose.  I’ve watched myself change and letting go of old insecurities is nothing like the one’s I am faced with now.  The underwear gets bigger, even the maternity clothes get too small, the boobs morph into something completely foreign to look at and everywhere you turn someone wants to talk to you about being pregnant.  You get to a point where you don’t remember what you used to look like and you throw up in your mouth a little bit when you hear about c-section scars, stretched out vagina’s, stretch marks, the baby weight you just can’t lose, sagging boobs, hair falling out and returning to work still in maternity pants.

Today was about acceptance of what I already know…and what I have yet to find out.

PS.

Dear cervix, start dilating.

OR ELSE.

 

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