Sunday, May 1, 2011
As I sit and think about this baby who will hopefully
arrive in the next three weeks, I find myself wondering, "Am I ready?"
Am I ready to battle labor pains?
Am I ready to wake up every two hours, groggy as I try to feed a crying baby?
Am I ready to start years of diaper changing, including untimely blow-outs that delay my daily timeline?
How about slowing my errands and my every day ease of taking care of my own needs first?
Am I ready for everything to become more difficult?
Worst of all . . . the fears and concerns of this child's life, every day, every night . . . forever?
Sometimes I try to tell myself it's really not that big of a deal. People have babies all the time. Maybe it's not as thrilling as I'm making it out to be. Maybe I'll miss just being me. Life is simple. Life is easy.
Those thoughts only last moments before they fade away with every other ridiculous untruth I've ever dared fathom. Because the truth of the matter is . . . I am ecstatic. All tediousness and worries aside, I simply cannot wait to meet this baby -- so much in fact that I try to tell myself otherwise to survive the anticipation. But in all honesty, I am ready.
I am ready to experience the unique birth of this baby girl, whatever her story may be.
I am ready to caress my cheek against hers and know she is mine. To feel that perfectly soft skin against my own, to inhale that sweet baby smell. To sense her pure, untainted spirit. To see what she looks like!
I am ready to open my heart, to feel close to Ty as I care for his sister. Surely he will be there to send her off to our family.
I am ready to work together on breastfeeding, teaching and learning as we go . . . absorbing the tender bond between mother and baby as I give her all I have to offer: Food, shelter, clothing. And most importantly, gentle touch and a paramount of love that cannot be feigned.
I am ready to play the role of a mother again, even when it means missing my first born for teaching me how it's all done.
Last week when I was 36 weeks and four days, I was "checked" at my doctor's appointment. I was 1cm dilated but no effacement, so that doesn't really mean anything (except when I was a few days from Ty's due date, I was barely dilated even a tiny fingertip). The midwife could not tell the baby's position, which baffled her, so she sent me to get an ultrasound. I tried to contain my excitement for the extra peek at my baby this late into the game. She is head-down but posterior. I have been doing exercises and visualization to encourage her to turn, but ultimately it is going to be up to her, and may take active labor before she does anything about it. Still, it was fun to see her and to hear she has a little bit of hair! I don't know how much, but the technician called it "old man hair" because the white striations on the ultrasound suggest she is bald on top with just a bit of hair at the back of her scalp and above the neck.
Now that I turned 37 weeks last Friday, I wouldn't mind if baby girl came early. Maybe one more week and then I'll really focus on telling her, "Ok, Baby, come on out! I am ready. So very, very ready."
Am I ready to battle labor pains?
Am I ready to wake up every two hours, groggy as I try to feed a crying baby?
Am I ready to start years of diaper changing, including untimely blow-outs that delay my daily timeline?
How about slowing my errands and my every day ease of taking care of my own needs first?
Am I ready for everything to become more difficult?
Worst of all . . . the fears and concerns of this child's life, every day, every night . . . forever?
Sometimes I try to tell myself it's really not that big of a deal. People have babies all the time. Maybe it's not as thrilling as I'm making it out to be. Maybe I'll miss just being me. Life is simple. Life is easy.
Those thoughts only last moments before they fade away with every other ridiculous untruth I've ever dared fathom. Because the truth of the matter is . . . I am ecstatic. All tediousness and worries aside, I simply cannot wait to meet this baby -- so much in fact that I try to tell myself otherwise to survive the anticipation. But in all honesty, I am ready.
I am ready to experience the unique birth of this baby girl, whatever her story may be.
I am ready to caress my cheek against hers and know she is mine. To feel that perfectly soft skin against my own, to inhale that sweet baby smell. To sense her pure, untainted spirit. To see what she looks like!
I am ready to open my heart, to feel close to Ty as I care for his sister. Surely he will be there to send her off to our family.
I am ready to work together on breastfeeding, teaching and learning as we go . . . absorbing the tender bond between mother and baby as I give her all I have to offer: Food, shelter, clothing. And most importantly, gentle touch and a paramount of love that cannot be feigned.
I am ready to play the role of a mother again, even when it means missing my first born for teaching me how it's all done.
Last week when I was 36 weeks and four days, I was "checked" at my doctor's appointment. I was 1cm dilated but no effacement, so that doesn't really mean anything (except when I was a few days from Ty's due date, I was barely dilated even a tiny fingertip). The midwife could not tell the baby's position, which baffled her, so she sent me to get an ultrasound. I tried to contain my excitement for the extra peek at my baby this late into the game. She is head-down but posterior. I have been doing exercises and visualization to encourage her to turn, but ultimately it is going to be up to her, and may take active labor before she does anything about it. Still, it was fun to see her and to hear she has a little bit of hair! I don't know how much, but the technician called it "old man hair" because the white striations on the ultrasound suggest she is bald on top with just a bit of hair at the back of her scalp and above the neck.
Now that I turned 37 weeks last Friday, I wouldn't mind if baby girl came early. Maybe one more week and then I'll really focus on telling her, "Ok, Baby, come on out! I am ready. So very, very ready."
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