Week 26

• Is all of this hair on my stomach a new thing, or is it just easier to see since the whole area is stre-e-e-tched out?
• Why were my fingernails like iron last week and why are they like fine china this week?
• Am I wearing a wig? I don't recognize this limp spaghetti on my head.
• I thought every woman got beautiful skin during pregnancy as an extra measure of grace ... so where did this giant zit and ultra dry skin come from?
• No Dave, it's not Essau sleeping next to you, it's just getting tough to reach my legs with a razor.
• How do I look like I'm feeling? A person is making his bed on my bladder and kicking everything in reach.
• Hey lady, stop staring. This is not a weird accumulation of belly fat -- there is a baby in there!
• I really never thought that some of my maternity clothes would become too small.
• In addition to that thought, if you see the middle button on my shirt undone, please tell me and don't let me walk around like that for an hour!
  

Week 26: Courage Under Fire

Since I have spent most of this blog saluting the trials that I have endured, I would now like to recognize the facts. This pregnancy is impacting Dave just about as much as it is me. Well, it seems that I have made sure of it. My husband is an incredibly patient and turn-the-other-cheek kind of person, especially with me, and I would like to recognize him for it. There should be some kind of award for good husbands who survive nine months of pregnancy. Some days, like this weekend, I am so humbled by my own behavior that I just want to hide.

Yesterday at church somebody asked Dave how he was doing with my pregnancy and he said, "I'm just trying to get through this." It came out like a joke, but I think there was a bit of truth in the comment.

After an attempt to explain my irrationality and to apologize he simply said, "Well, you're having a baby."

Thank you so much.

Week 25: And NOW I'm ready to be a Mom.

Smeared bananas, wet paper towels, most things on Fear Factor and a dirty sink when I’m brushing my teeth are a few of the things that can send me into a gagging fit. So, I sometimes wonder how I will manage all of the gross things that a child will present. What about when he vomits all over his bedroom or goes #2 in the bathtub or who knows what else? Dave is as gag-ready as I am and I don’t think I can make a baby clean up his own waste. So, what will we do?

The other day at work I had a break though. If you have an exceptionally weak stomach, you might want to skip this. I told Dave about it and he said, “I’m proud of you, but please stop talking about it.”

There are quite a few emergencies at my job each year and I have become familiar with the local ER and the route the ambulance takes to get there. Recently, one of my clients had a long seizure. She was on the floor and I was at her side as we waited for the EMT’s to arrive. During the episode, she vomited. I immediately ripped off a huge handful of paper towels and wiped it up so that she did not have to lay in it. I felt like I was hovering above myself, watching a miracle happen. I did not feel the slightest hint of a gag and trust me, that vomit was an ugly sight. I just did the job that needed to be done and continued to speak quietly to her until she stopped seizing. Success!

Thus, I believe my maternal instinct—or something—has come to life. I will now be able to handle disgusting things without contributing my own pre-digested food to the situation. Or so I hope.

Thank you and goodnight.

Week 24: Tender Times

A few days ago a friend asked me how emotions are during pregnancy.

“I’ve never felt more stable.” I replied. It’s atypical for a preggo, but true. If my emotions are at all awry, it is because the good feelings resonate more than ever.

I am distinctly aware of my love for Dave, how much I rely on him and how safe it is to do so. On Monday he made a special birthday dinner for me, so that could celebrate together. I came home late from class, which was an especially grueling episode of boredom and monotone speech about psychological research. I finally understood the expression bored to tears.

As I walked up the stairs to our apartment I could see roses on the table and candles flickering around them. Dinner was stuffed chicken and rice and smiles and staring. What is the reverse emotion of a broken heart? What is the term for the polar opposite of that strong, consuming feeling? That is what I felt.

Dave made a mix CD for me and we sat on the couch and listened to it. It was like falling in love with your best friend for the hundredth time; comfortable like a favorite pair of jeans, but thrilling, like those jeans make your butt look hot.

Then a song came on with a country twang. Dave is usually apologetic about his secret love of country music and I act like it is an act of generosity to allow him to listen to it, but I often like it. The song brought tears to my eyes, which then overflowed. It was so simple and sublime. I want it to be our family song because it is all about support and dreaming and love. If you must know, the song is My Wish by Rascal Flatts.

I have often been touched by the goodness in the world. However, when my hormones go crazy they typically exaggerate the anxiety and paranoia that comes so easily to me. However, this time, this glorious time, whatever is going on to create this little person is accentuating my awe of this life.

Week 23: Baby Stewie

I dreamt last night that the baby was at his first swim lesson. I was so anxious because it was the type of swim lesson where you just throw the baby in and watch him start flapping until he swims. There were many other parents there, about to send their babies into the pool as if sending a captive turtle back to the wild.

I finally set him in the pool, watching, holding my breath and posed to jump in to save him. Suddenly, he rose above water, holding his head up and slapping the water aggressively. I was filled with pride and felt like a real Mom.

At some point during the dream Dave, sleeping next to me, whispered, “Are you okay?” because I was breathing rapidly. I just said, “Yeah” and returned to my baby at the pool. I had to keep an eye on him.

I think that I imagine him to look something like Stewie on Family Guy. Yes, I picture a cartoon taking life and joining our family toward the end of January. The other day I imagined him sitting on Dave’s lap at the computer, watching him play video games. His eyes were popped to cartoon proportion. I laughed out loud at the image.

So that’s where I am. I believe that he’s real and that he is coming out eventually. However, in my mind’s eye, he is much more like a cartoon with a giant head and British accent than a wrinkly, soft infant.