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Monday, April 09, 2007
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So I'm still here. And still pregnant ... a fact which continues to amaze me when I wake up each morning, toss back the covers, discover that great big mountain of a belly -- my belly! -- hiding underneath the sheets. Mornings have become my favorite time. The aches of carrying all this extra weight have been temporarily cured by the night's sleep; the boy snuggles next to me, shifting closer or farther each time there's another kick or wriggle from the babies, depending on which side of the wake/sleep spectrum he wants to be in at the time. He says he doesn't know how I can fall asleep at all these days, with all that hubbub going on inside. Me, I love those pokes and pinches and weird rolling waves; on days when the babes are more quiet, I find I miss the action.
This makes me wonder what it'll be like, just a few weeks from now, when the action moves from inside to outside, and I'm no longer pregnant. I think I feel a little sad -- is that strange? -- that this will soon be over. Unlike my lucky friends who are now on pregnancies number two, this will likely be it for me. I'm so excited to find out what these babies of mine are like, but at the same time, these last few months have been among the happiest ever. For the first time since losing my ovaries, I find I'm not angry with my body anymore. We've made peace, my flawed insides and I. From the belly getting bigger and bigger and the boobs doing the same, to the not-so-fun stuff, like numb fingers and aching back, I can't stop marveling -- that my body can actually do this, grow two lovely tiny humans inside. Each ultrasound report that confirms this still feels like a small miracle.
So this pregnancy thing? It's been great. Somewhat to my surprise, things have gone relatively smoothly since those early scares; I feel healthy and strong and beautiful and good. Still, I've gotten so used to thinking one milestone at a time that looking ahead to the next stage feels strange. Thirteen weeks: end of first trimester. Twenty weeks: halfway there! Twenty-six weeks: babies born could still survive. And now 34 weeks: the point at which if labor starts, there'll be no attempt to stop it, since babies born after this point have a high chance of doing just fine.
34 weeks feels simultaneously reassuring, and scary as all get out. Because after all this time of focusing on getting pregnant, staying pregnant, helping these mysterious beings inside me grow big and strong, we're getting close to the thing that's been the goal all along: meeting our children, our two little girls. Becoming a mom. And I don't know if I'm ready.
There's a crib all set up in our bedroom; our apartment is an explosion of baby gear. We've done the prenatal classes, read stacks of books. But on weekend mornings as the boy and I lie lazily in bed, I think about how long it's been just him and me, and how good this life together has been. It's hard to picture what our lives will be like in just a few short weeks.
# posted by y @ 3:27 PM
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