Happy Birthday to Me!

Now that David has finally finished his Pre-Lims (YEAH! Pre-Lims is a horrendous test deciding your fate in PhD Land), I can make this public, because I was able to tell him...I'm pregnant.
I waited until he was finished with the dreaded test so that I wouldn't put anymore undue stress on him. Of course he sort of figured it out anyway and treated me like a queen, a puky, tired queen. But, in the meantime I wrote this small essay to sort out my feelings and for my baby-to-be. And, other than feeling sick as a dog, I'm great, thank you.

Swan Song or maybe just The Vicious Circle

It’s come, the over active bladder, the tender body parts, the odd taste in my mouth, the extra saliva (ugh! I’m drooling), the zits, and the stomach pooch that won’t go away even when I stand as straight as I can and suck in. Yep, motherhood ain’t pretty (despite what the super market photos would have you believe).

Still, despite my deterioration, I’m so excited. This is the best time of my pregnancies, the dreaming time, the question time… Who’s coming? What will they add to the family? What will he or she look like? Could it be twins? Please don’t let it be twins, although… if it was twins I’d DEFINITLY be finished. Please don’t let it be twins. What if I miscarry? Will it be a boy? Again? A girl? If so, will she be a spoiled rotten princess or a battered little lady? It’s all so unknown, so exciting!

I know, I’m getting carried away too soon, but let me marvel in this short, short time. Soon, I’ll be puking and sleeping in public places. I’ll be a sad excuse of a mother and a cranky wife. I’ll stop cooking and start crying over Christmas songs (even Jingle Bells). In short, I’ll cease to be me and turn into something else, something that is still me but different.

Bruce Banner-like, I’ll have to warn people, “You won’t like me when I’m pregnant.” I’ll begin to turn into the Incredible Bulk! (Oh how did I get to be so funny?!!) But even my quirky (at best) sense of humor will fade as my pregnancy muddled brain is flooded with progesterone and oestrogen and all other manner of horror-mones.

Like the heroes of old who descended into danger to save ones they love and came out stronger for it, I must go down into pregnancy to bring into this world a soul that I already unconditionally love, and I will become better for it.

I learn from every one of my pregnancies. Each “confinement” teaches me how grateful I am for my body and what an amazing thing it is to produce life. I can begin to relate to what others have gone through in this world, depression, nausea, weight gain, exhaustion, hormones. I learn not to judge others a little more. I learn about limitations. Then, through labor, I learn how far a body can go into the Shadow of the Valley of Death and stay on this earth. I am even more grateful for my Savior who descended below all things.

In 9 months to 2 years I will emerge again. Slowly at first, each week getting a little better. At some point, I fully come back to me, but a bunch improved. I have the energy to be the mom and wife I want to be. I am even more patient. I am further seasoned and extra confident. I can laugh at the strangeness it is to be me. I begin to want to do things like swinging at the park or camping. That’s also about the time I look around and think “Perhaps, it would be nice to have another baby.”