I feel quite vulnerable and self-conscious posting these photos and this article today. I feel so passionately about women being madly in love with their bodies, while at the same time fearing that I am coming across as self-important, vain, attention-seeking and whatever other insults […]
Thirty-eight weeks today. It doesn’t seem real, while at the same time it definitely feels like the pregnancy should be over and done with. This last month has been the most challenging and the most incredible period of time for so many different (and completely […]
I am writing this post this morning from my favourite seat at the cafe. It is right by the front window which is wide open at the moment, the sounds of the morning streaming in. From this seat, I can see every single inch of the cafe that Pete created (you’ll have to excuse the random, romantic moments I am having – I can’t control them at the moment). These last few weeks of pregnancy have me feeling all of the emotions, and I mean all of them. Last night I burst into tears while watching Californication (and, speaking of Californication, I actually have more to say about that show but I might save that for tomorrow when my brain is less fuzzy and the sweat patches under my arms have receded), for no reason at all. Pete said softly and kindly, “Don’t be sad my love,” but I wasn’t sad, I just have no idea what to do with everything that I am feeling.
In bed last night as I wrestled between consciousness and sleep, our little man dropped even further, pressing down even heavier on my cervix. I breathed a deep breath with each movement that he made and felt every single millimetre that he moved. The last few nights have been close to torture when it comes time to sleep. I made peace a long time ago with the fact that my sleeping is not going to be great or consistent or even rejuvenating, but lately it has been a whole new kind of difficult. As soon as I lie down my body becomes really itchy, I become insanely fidgety and fall into this weird micro-sleeps that I jolt out of violently a few mere minutes later. It’s all okay and it doesn’t bother me that sleep seems a thing of the distant past, but it is definitely taking its toll on me during the many hours of daylight.
Having never done this whole ‘being pregnant’ thing before, maternity leave has also thrown me a bit of a curveball (as I kind of predicted it would). Every morning feels weird. I feel weird. I feel lost. I feel like I am just waiting which, when I mentioned this to Mum she answered with, “Well, you are.” Our son, as I have told you all, is fully engaged and he is RIGHT THERE, he is so very close to being born and yet there is absolutely nothing that I can do to make it happen any faster. I am at the stage where I am just waiting and my next challenge is to make peace with that. Being someone who always likes to be busy and pull my weight and contribute, I have really been struggling with how I should be feeling. Physically, this has been the most exciting period of the pregnancy yet but mentally, I am still finding my feet.
Not only that, but the hormones that are shooting all throughout my body are just so exhausting! I am so connected to my son and so desperate to meet him that my sheer WANT and DESIRE to hold him in my arms is literally all I think about, all day. ALL DAY. There is not a moment that passes that I don’t wish he was already here. I find myself constantly hoping for any signs of labour or contractions. I am silently (and sometimes not so silently) wishing in every moment for him to be ready to meet Pete and I. I want to smell him, and feel him in my arms, and kiss every inch of his beautiful little body, and change his nappy, and tell him how wanted and how loved he is. I have never experienced a want as great or as insatiable as this. Through my tears last night I blubbered to Pete, “I just love him so much.” I love him so much already that I have no idea what to do with it all, the love has nowhere to go except out of my eyeballs.
I am trying everything I can to distract myself from the thoughts and the yearning and the persistent, relentless NEED for my son. I am learning how to use royal icing, I am constantly cleaning the house, I am reading in every spare moment that I have and watching television series when I can’t be on my feet anymore. Nothing works. The ridiculous thing is that, even if I go to full term (which I still don’t think I will), his arrival is only 31 days away which is NOTHING and yet it feels like a fucking eternity (excuse my French). I know that when I go into labour, I won’t remember any of this or how I am feeling.
I don’t really have much advice or wisdom to impart today about this stage of pregnancy because I am still trying to work it all out. Maybe I will go and buy myself one of those colouring in books for adults today, or start the 1000 piece puzzle that my friend gave me, or sleep, or buy the John Ajvide Lindqvist books that I have been wanting to read so desperately. I doubt that any of these will work for an extended period of time, but they are worth a shot – right?
I definitely imagined that I would write this post far more succinctly and with more wit and structure, but the state of my brain coupled with the heat that is currently emanating from my body means that this is about as eloquent as I am going to get.
Sixty-three days?! That’s nothing. I have all the feelings.
I am thirty-one weeks today and oh boy, do I feel it.
Generally speaking I am doing well! I feel healthy, I have enough energy each day to get me through until about 1.30pm and although I don’t sleep through the night, when I am asleep it is a deep sleep (before my bladder or my son wakes me up).
We had our baby shower last weekend and it was such a beautiful day. We were surrounded by friends and family and there was enough food to feed our entire suburb for three weeks and alcohol was drank and our little man, Pete and I received some beautiful gifts. Since moving into our house, a lot of what we have been doing around the place was not only in preparation for the arrival of bub, but it was also in preparation for hosting our baby BUB-beque. It was the first time Pete’s and my family were meeting, and the first time that we were introducing ourselves to everyone as a little family of three in our home that we created together. We couldn’t have wished for the day to go any better; all of our family and friends introduced themselves to one another if they hadn’t met before, every room of our house was filled with conversation and laughter and the backyard smelt of delicious meat cooking on a coal barbeque.
At thirty-one weeks I only have two more hospital appointments before my due date. I only have two weeks of work left. It really does feel that the next two months are going to absolutely fly by and before we know it, we will be holding our son in our arms and weeping over how perfect he is.
I am getting bigger with each and every day that passes – and this is confirmed over and over again by my family and work colleagues – and so is Bub. He is so big now that by just resting our hands on my belly, Pete and I are able to feel his head, his feet and his legs; we are able to feel our son’s body and it is positively surreal. Not only is he big, but my god is he strong. I was sitting at my desk yesterday and he was kicking the hell out of me and it hurt – it really, really hurt. I had to press my hand quite firmly into the right side of my stomach to keep him away from what I sure are some of my vital organs. I tried getting up and walking around in hopes that he would shift his position or go to sleep, but no. Up until last week, I could only really feel him kicking or moving when I was sitting or lying down, but now it doesn’t matter where I am or whether I am standing or sitting, I can feel him constantly. He is my active little companion and he makes sure that I know it.
Pete and I were sitting on the lounge last night watching Vikings – and, holy shit, if you haven’t watched it, WATCH IT. I didn’t think I would like it, but I am obsessed. And Travis Fimmel is a bloody dreamboat – literally bloody. I never thought that I would find someone whose face is spattered with blood so damn attractive but I DO. Now I sit on the lounge and demand more battles scenes just so I can see this:
So we were sitting on the lounge and once again I got an overwhelming surge of love and adoration for our son. He has so much personality already and I love that he and I know each other already – because we do. I can’t describe the connection that I feel with him because it is so intimate. I love that he and I have to work together to get through the day. I love that everything I do is with him in mind – what I eat, how I sit, all the visits to the bathroom (which, by the way have increased once again). He is the biggest part of my days and my nights, my little companion and I truly cannot wait to meet him.
Pete also picked up the last piece of furniture for Bub’s room which was a Boori chest of drawers to match the cot and the change table that we got a few weeks ago. Pete is away this weekend and I am going to get our son’s room all set up for when he gets back. I am going to wash and fold and put away all of his clothes, and buy nappies to stack on the shelves beneath the change table and get out all of the picture books and set them up. Bub already feels like a part of the family and, once again, I am finding it difficult to describe what it feels like getting all of this ready for him. Pete is so proud of the room that we have created for our son and he said last night, “Our little man is going to love his room, and he deserves it all”. And he does.
I realised the other day that I have almost forgotten what it is like to NOT be pregnant. It’s weird. A colleague and friend of mine said to me, “I have never not known you pregnant” – and she hasn’t because I found out I was pregnant the day before I started this job. She then went on to say that she actually doesn’t know much of my back story either which got me thinking. I went through some old photos and almost didn’t recognise myself. Women are pregnant for ten months all up, almost a whole year, so I guess that it’s pretty normal to forget how you used to look, how you used to feel and even what you used to wear before growing a human. But even more than that, I realised that I will never be that person again. Ever. My body will forever bear the marks of having been pregnant and having a child, and I am in no way saying that as a bad thing, not at all. I just found myself really stopping and thinking about how I used to look and who I used to be, and wondering who I am about to become.
I have to say, I am excited to find out.
I am also excited, I will admit, to wear my normal clothes once again and not be restricted to a handful of comfortable items of clothing that I wear in steady circulation. I didn’t realise how trendy I was before everything stopped fitting me. Though I may not feel comfortable wearing the crop tops and short skirts that I used to wear (I am a mother now, after all), I am looking forward to having options, having the energy to accessorise and pretty myself up and to just feeling like myself again but in a new way. I am looking forward to feeling sexy again!
Overall, I can’t remember being happier than I am now. I can’t remember ever being more in love in my relationship, more settled and grateful for my home, more inspired to create or more ready to face whatever the future holds. My son and Pete are the catalysts for those feelings and every morning I wake up grateful for Pete’s arm around me and my son’s kicks against my belly.
I’ll leave you with this:
I have never found gift-giving particularly difficult. Those that I buy for, I generally know pretty well whether it be a family member, a partner or a friend. I actually love the lead up to Christmas and writing a list of ideas for presents for […]