But, hours of insomnia coupled with nightmares when I was able to sleep have robbed me of my ability to think straight today. So, instead, we’ll just talk about pregnancy. Again.
Because I’m still pregnant.
Really, it’s no surprise that I’m still pregnant. Right up until today, I think… although I’m not entirely 100% sure, if I’d had Slade before today he would be labeled “premature”… even though he already weighs close to 6lbs. Lord have mercy, kid! Stop growing! I mean, grow… but slow your pace down a tad bit for the sake of Mommy’s lady parts. Comprende?
Anyways, today I woke up in my 9th month of pregnancy… which is also known as the homestretch… and which I now know is the longest stretch of pregnancy. Not because you’re just tired of being pregnant {which, hello… I am}. Not because the baby is so big and essentially, you have a 6lb tumor in your stomach. Although, in no way, shape or form am I calling my child a tumor. I’m just saying… it’s 6lbs of bulk that push every other organ except your colon and your bladder up into your lungs. I’m not kidding. I asked the doctor where my liver is currently residing and she pointed to just below my boobs. My boobs! Um, correct me if I’m wrong… but it’s typically lower than that… right? Anyways, this isn’t the longest stretch of pregnancy because of exhaustion or tiredness, or just completely being over being pregnant. And, it’s not even because right now the desire to meet the precious little person you’ve been carrying, developing, gestating, giving what can feel like all of your life blood to the last 9 month is so overwhelmingly strong that it’s sometimes a physical aching. I can’t tell you how badly I just want to see his face. I just want to look into those beautiful eyes and say, “Hello”. I want to hold him already. But, that’s still not why it’s the longest stretch.
It’s the longest stretch of pregnancy because you’re now living in limbo.
You’re running down that final stretch of the race, you can see the finish line…the balloons, the banners, the tape that you get to run through, the crowds cheering you on… but nobody knows exactly where it is. It’s foggy. It’s in the distance. It’s right there… you can see it, but you have no idea how much longer you have to run to get there. And, because this is the end of the race, you’re sprinting…. using up the very last of your resources. Sure, in some pregnancies {mine included} you pick a day and say, “If the baby hasn’t come by now, he’s getting evicted.” That day is marked and highlighted and circled and exclamation marked on the calendar in my brain. August 31st. I think about it with almost every breath that I take. I’m living for that day right now. But, in the meantime, there’s this knowing that “it could be any day now”.
“It could be any day now” is a crazy hard way to live.
Every morning waking up with at least part of you prepared to have the baby today. Every night going to sleep knowing “today wasn’t the day”. Doing it again the next day. Living on the edge of “if the baby comes today”, and having a plan in place for that to happen. Knowing that the hospital bags should probably be packed this weekend, just to sit in a corner until they’re needed… which could be next week, and it could be 21 days from now. Trying to fit in those last magical memories of a family of 3… because that will never happen again.
When I was pregnant with Zoe, I was 100% convinced that she was going to be late. Really late. I was ready for about 2 weeks late. So, this part wasn’t actually all that hard. I remember waking up to my 9th month so vividly. The hormonal roller coaster of the 8th month seemed to vanish overnight and it was replaced by this incredibly deep longing to meet my little girl. Day in and day out, that was all I could seem to think about. I was so very very ready to just meet her. Not necessarily to become a mom, I hadn’t dealt with that reality yet. But, I wanted my little girl. I don’t know how those two coexisted, but they did. But, like I said, she was going to be late. And then she came early. 2 1/2 weeks early. 37 weeks and 4 days. 10 days away from tomorrow morning.
And now, that’s all I can think about.
Because I went early with Zoe, I now anticipate going early with Slade. My family anticipates me going early with Slade. I know I have to be prepared to go early with Slade. There’s no thought of going late with this one… for one, because August 31st is on the calendar. But, more importantly, because my only other experience with pregnancy tells me that I’m going early…. even if it’s lying to me. My brain is fixated on that experience.
I would love to say, “I’m just enjoying every day because I know that sooner or later that day will come… so in the meantime, I’m loving our last few days as a family of 3″. And, to an extent, that’s completely true. I’ve always had a talent for living in the moment and really soaking in where I’m at. But, I don’t think that’s necessarily the case {or even possible} with pregnancy. Because, the reality is, as a mom… I’ve been, to some extent, a family of 4 now for 9 months. My heart has been with this precious baby for 9 months and the anticipation of meeting him has built to this wonderful climax that I know will be fulfilled shortly. So, I wait, with bated breath wondering if today, will in fact be, “the day”…. even though I know it won’t. I prepare myself for August 31st as if he isn’t coming sooner, even as I prepare myself for the reality that he could come next week.
It’s a hard place for a mother’s heart…that finish line that is so incredibly close, and yet still so very far away.
Happy Thursday Ya’ll
Ps. Just in case you’re wondering… I had to correct about 30 grammatical/spelling issues {including 2 in the word spelling and 1 just now in “word” earlier in this sentence}. I’m not lying when I say that hours of insomnia and nightmares robbed me of my ability to think clearly today.
PPS. If you find any that I missed… be a doll and just ignore them. 
