Pro-pregnancy post.
I realize I don't say much about my pregnancy lately, especially now that I'm getting down to the wire (soon to be 37 weeks on Saturday!), but it doesn't mean I don't have thoughts on it. Oh boy, do I have thoughts.
A lot of them are worries, understandably. Will I tear during delivery? Will I have to have a c-section? Will I be able to breastfeed successfully? Will I be able to soothe him when he cries? Will I be *that* sleep-deprived that I'll do something stupid like put him in the washing machine and start it on spin cycle?
And ultimately I know that I'm worrying about what every potential new mom must worry about, and that a lot of these worries are unfounded - and even if they're not, there's ways around issues that may come up. I know there will be a lactation consultant in the hospital; I know I'll heal after whatever I end up going through; I know eventually childcare will get easier. It will just get harder before it gets easier.
But despite all the worries and concerns, and the discomfort - because it *is* getting remarkably uncomfortable now, at nearly full-term - I have to say I'm really, really really happy that I'm doing this. I'm happy because John and I are going to be a family, instead of a couple. I'm happy because I will have someone to teach and take care of as he grows, and while he will be his own person, I can instill in him those things that my parents instilled in me, and their parents before them. I'm happy because I waited until the right time in my life to do this, with the right person, and at the right point in my career, when we are comfortable enough financially for me to take as long as a year off after he's born to raise him. (My work is pretty generous with maternity leave policy.)
I think I'm most amused by my cats' reactions. They actually have little tussling fights with one another to determine who gets to sit closest to me. They follow me from room to room, meowing and chirping incessantly, like they're aware that something momentous is going to happen any day now and they're a bit anxious because of it.
And while I can't wait to have him here, I'm going to miss little things about the pregnancy. I'm going to miss his kicks and his wiggling and turning. I'm going to miss my (now gigantic) round belly, and the way maternity clothes are so very comfortable. I'm going to miss the random conversations with strangers (some of whom have kids, some of whom don't), everywhere we go, whether it's gentle inquiries, or unsolicited advice (usually humorous, in the form of an exasperated parent whose kid is having a meltdown and they turn to us and say in not so many words, see what you're getting yourself into?), or even just knowing smiles.
I can only hope that I do a good job as a parent. But knowing that I'm going into this willingly, with my eyes wide open, and doing it for the right reasons, makes me think that my hope isn't so unfounded after all.
A lot of them are worries, understandably. Will I tear during delivery? Will I have to have a c-section? Will I be able to breastfeed successfully? Will I be able to soothe him when he cries? Will I be *that* sleep-deprived that I'll do something stupid like put him in the washing machine and start it on spin cycle?
And ultimately I know that I'm worrying about what every potential new mom must worry about, and that a lot of these worries are unfounded - and even if they're not, there's ways around issues that may come up. I know there will be a lactation consultant in the hospital; I know I'll heal after whatever I end up going through; I know eventually childcare will get easier. It will just get harder before it gets easier.
But despite all the worries and concerns, and the discomfort - because it *is* getting remarkably uncomfortable now, at nearly full-term - I have to say I'm really, really really happy that I'm doing this. I'm happy because John and I are going to be a family, instead of a couple. I'm happy because I will have someone to teach and take care of as he grows, and while he will be his own person, I can instill in him those things that my parents instilled in me, and their parents before them. I'm happy because I waited until the right time in my life to do this, with the right person, and at the right point in my career, when we are comfortable enough financially for me to take as long as a year off after he's born to raise him. (My work is pretty generous with maternity leave policy.)
I think I'm most amused by my cats' reactions. They actually have little tussling fights with one another to determine who gets to sit closest to me. They follow me from room to room, meowing and chirping incessantly, like they're aware that something momentous is going to happen any day now and they're a bit anxious because of it.
And while I can't wait to have him here, I'm going to miss little things about the pregnancy. I'm going to miss his kicks and his wiggling and turning. I'm going to miss my (now gigantic) round belly, and the way maternity clothes are so very comfortable. I'm going to miss the random conversations with strangers (some of whom have kids, some of whom don't), everywhere we go, whether it's gentle inquiries, or unsolicited advice (usually humorous, in the form of an exasperated parent whose kid is having a meltdown and they turn to us and say in not so many words, see what you're getting yourself into?), or even just knowing smiles.
I can only hope that I do a good job as a parent. But knowing that I'm going into this willingly, with my eyes wide open, and doing it for the right reasons, makes me think that my hope isn't so unfounded after all.