Be here now
I will almost probably never be pregnant again. I keep telling myself to be present in this now, but it is hard to not wish time would go faster. Especially when there is so little about this pregnancy that is pleasant - the pain, the sickness, this cold and inclement winter. I would much rather be holding my baby girl in a sunny room with the windows open.
That said, there are some things worth cherishing. A certain, ineffable sweetness. The joy of quickening. The pride in carrying this belly in front of me. The round, hard feel of it.
It's getting harder to sleep. Have to stay upright much of the time, can't breathe. Have to get up for bathroom breaks at least twice, even when all I do is take baby sips of water for my parched throat. Couldn't fall back to sleep last night, head full of worries. Spent the wee hours of the morning in my recliner downstairs trying to quiet my thoughts. Miserable, but after a while the sound of my grandmother's pendulum clock took over. Scritch--- scritch. The hamsters in their kitchen bio-dome woke up and went busily about whatever it is that hamsters do.
I can see the street from my chair, beyond the shadow-fingers of houseplants that crowd my front window. The moonlight on the snow made everything outside seem preternaturally bright. Cold, but I was safe and comfy beneath my blankets. My cat, nestled across my lower legs (her favorite place, of late) was a warm, heavy weight, kneading and shifting every few minutes for a better position. A few inches higher, the baby squirmed and kicked in the round, warm weight of my middle. Somehow, all the misery had fallen away; everything around me was comfort and life.
Much as I wish that we could fast forward to June, I would not trade moments like that.
That said, there are some things worth cherishing. A certain, ineffable sweetness. The joy of quickening. The pride in carrying this belly in front of me. The round, hard feel of it.
It's getting harder to sleep. Have to stay upright much of the time, can't breathe. Have to get up for bathroom breaks at least twice, even when all I do is take baby sips of water for my parched throat. Couldn't fall back to sleep last night, head full of worries. Spent the wee hours of the morning in my recliner downstairs trying to quiet my thoughts. Miserable, but after a while the sound of my grandmother's pendulum clock took over. Scritch--- scritch. The hamsters in their kitchen bio-dome woke up and went busily about whatever it is that hamsters do.
I can see the street from my chair, beyond the shadow-fingers of houseplants that crowd my front window. The moonlight on the snow made everything outside seem preternaturally bright. Cold, but I was safe and comfy beneath my blankets. My cat, nestled across my lower legs (her favorite place, of late) was a warm, heavy weight, kneading and shifting every few minutes for a better position. A few inches higher, the baby squirmed and kicked in the round, warm weight of my middle. Somehow, all the misery had fallen away; everything around me was comfort and life.
Much as I wish that we could fast forward to June, I would not trade moments like that.