Today my friend Karyn sent me this photo. She prefaced it by saying it was the freaky, lasts-forever, organic stuff, but still. Her milk and my tenant have something in common. They'll be overstaying their welcome, one in a fridge, one in a uterus, after August 10.In numerous posts, after various experiences I've chronicled, I've made statements alluding to the "realness" of this pregnancy - that I have a baby inside me who will join the world around the second week of August. But in the past few days, "real" has stepped up its game.
I can't pinpoint why it's happened. Might be that the baby's room is coming together and filling up with a variety of gear and clothing (care of my two showers), on Wednesday I tried on my first piece of nursing-specific clothing (a tank top) and purchased our cloth diaper starter set, nursery chair and a variety of mid-wife recommended herbal remedies to help withdelivery and recovery. We are taking our labor class tonight. This weekend we make our last trip to Lake City and Escanaba as a duo. And then we have have 4 Saturdays before the baby is supposed to arrive. Though at times it seems I've been pregnant forever, these days it seems like only yesterday I was announcing it to my friends.
Though I know I'm not alone - that many women start to feel a titch panicky at this point in their pregnancy - the "we're all in this together" phenomenon is doing little to quiet my brain. In the middle of the night or the early early morning, when I can't sleep but am too tired to get up, my noggin's wheels start to grind. And as we all know - sleepy thinking is not the time for rational thinking. The baby is almost here - all those things that I put off or said I'd do closer to the due date now have to be done. Not to mention the regret and guilt.
...I haven't taken enough photos or written down enough details. I haven't taken enough time to relax and savor my relationship with Will. I haven't gotten enough sleep. I registered for all the wrong items. I still need to choose art for the nursery walls. Will I remember how to launder her cloth diaper? What drawers should things go in? When should she start a bottle? Solid food? What about vaccines? Did I read the right books? Did I read too many books? Will I be a good mom?
Eventually I drift back to dream land. And though I wake remembering my late-night musings, in the light of day, during my 17 mile, 45 minute commute to and from Bloomfield Hills, it all seem less daunting. There are people all over the place, who were all born and who all had moms who did the best they could. I'm simply joining their ranks. Did I take enough photos or absorb enough details? I don't know - but what I can I do about it now? Now, I can relax. I can savor my "just the two of us" relationship with Will. We'll figure the rest of it out.
Right?
