Taking It for Granted

I'm at the end of my pregnancy. Literally any day now, I could become a mother. Depending on who you talk to, I already am.

But she will be here soon.

Instead of just a lump in my belly, there will be a tiny human being who is counting on me (and Tank) to help her survive life.

I'm so ready- in more ways than one.

My body is tired, and uncomfortable. My mind and heart are growing impatient and overwhelmed with the unknown and the excitement of hope.

But...there are times when I remind myself to be present in this moment.

It is insane to feel movement that doesn't really belong to me. Sometimes it's a shove on my bladder, or a pinch of a nerve that somehow sends my hip into numbness.

It's odd. A part of me, the stubborn and independent part I'm very proud of, rebels against this still. Who is this tiny person in there? What is she doing? How do I not know more about her?

At the moment it's just a big stomach...but I know it's more. I know this is something special I'm experiencing.

Sometimes I feel bad about that. I will get caught up at work, or realize I haven't felt her move since getting up that day. It's because moving around actually puts babies to sleep (they are most active when moms are least active). Or because I am doing something crazy, like paying attention to my job.

Then she moves around, and I think for the millionth time how I need to record her odd, alien like movements that make my comically round stomach swell like the ocean.

Or I remember how many women have went through thousands of dollars and untold amounts of energy to try and experience that odd sensation of having someone else move your organs.

I have always pushed myself to think of motherhood as involving a mother and a child, which does not always involve pregnancy.

There are many paths to motherhood.

I've tried so hard to support that fact- and it is indeed a fact, no matter how many others don't want to acknowledge the other paths.

I've almost ignored the pregnancy route, just because it's so often held up as the only route.

I struggle with writing about my pregnancy, wanting to be realistic but worrying about being too mushy or upsetting to others who haven't/can't/aren't going to be on this route themselves.

But at the same time, I don't want to ignore this. I don't want to take it for granted. 

Because it is an adventure, and feels like a fun science experiment my body is participating in without my control. I always thought it was super weird to see other women's stomachs move when the baby starts going wild...but it's so cool when it's mine (others, including my husband and close friends, have not always shared this sentiment- which I understand, again it's only cool when it's happening to me).

So I'm documenting it. We took the maternity pictures. I fill out the "belly book" my MIL got me soon after we told her. I have an album of biweekly-to-weekly photos that I glance back at to see all the physical changes I've gone through over the course of 40 weeks. I've written bits and pieces here, because I wanted to look back and see some of the mental and emotional changes as well.

I'm documenting it, and I'm not taking it for granted.