Ages after the fact I decided to edit this so I can write my birthing story 2 months later...
-- On Pregnancy
I'm like several weeks late on this. I've had an assignment to do this forever. It's hard to get to. Hard to write, even thought I want to. Gonna be even harder for publish. Hell this may turn into a #Misfit email...
25 weeks down. 15 to go.
Where do I start? The beginning? Embarrassing stories of implantation bleeding, exhaustion, morning sickness that lasts all damn day. And who lied about strange cravings? I specifically want normal shit and when I couldn't get it....
Do I start about how the first time I felt her move I thought it was gas? How it use to make my heart pound? I felt bad for not liking the fact that I could feel her moving. I should right? This should be some wonderfully mythical shit I'm experiencing.
26 weeks down. 14 to go.
The first day she decided to move while I was actively moving around was Christmas Eve. It felt so funny. Less like gas and more like butterflies but while walking. It was strange. I still wasn't completely comfortable with the thought of her moving.
I don't think it was that far after New Years when I begin feeling individual kicks. They were wonderful and real. I knew what they were and they would tell me where she was. She quickly developed a pattern. She kicks after I eat, when I have to pee and whenever I'm really still. She loves kicking my bladder.
In the last week, she's started having hiccups which I do not enjoy as much. They make whichever side she is on just start jumping. And I can see it. I guess the next thing is seeing her kick? Hell, she sure kicks strong enough.
I've known she was a she from the moment I knew she existed. I doubted my thoughts of course but it wasn't long before I knew who she was. Long before an ultrasound good. Her father dreamt of her first. Then she controlled my dreams for about a week. The most significant dream came from my aunt. My mom told her that I'm pregnant and she said she finally understood the dream she had about my grandmother holding a pink blanket. That was enough to make me cry. I had to wonder why she let her have that dream and not me but there are some things I cannot control.... Maybe that dream was meant to rebuild damaged bridges.
36 weeks down. 4 to go.
I hate everything. I can't see my feet but I know they're swollen. I can't enjoy what few foods I still like because of the demon known as heartburn. (but thank gawd for almond milk being somewhat soothing...) Naps were invented for pregnant women. I'm always tired. I want to tackle the mountain of shit I need to do before she gets here. I want to crochet a nest. Like Big Bird's nest on Sesame Street.
I just want her to get here. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of being pregnant. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of being hungry. I'm tired of being thirsty. I'm tired of being excited that I can still shit. though many pregnant women can't so haha...
Anyway, I have my birth plan completed. I have my bag, it's not packed tho. I'm working on her coming home outfit. I'm excited. I'm nervous. I'm scared shitless. I'm in love. Complete and total unconditional love.
I want her to move her leg out my damn ribs.
No comments:
Post a Comment