So, here we are... it's getting real...
I'm all pregnant and shit...
My ribs are spread wide, air capacity impeded, elimination patterns interrupted, breasts occasionally leaking, heartburn continues...
I'm tired and gaining more weight literally every day.
I'm excited and nervous. Not exactly ready for this pregnancy to be over- not dying to evict this kid. Even though I can't wait to actually meet him, I'm not uncomfortable enough to want to get him out of me and not sure enough of my parenting abilities to be quite ready. 3 weeks doesn't seem long enough for that mental transition. Moms are way more organized than I am. Moms can get things done on their "to do" lists without sitting on the couch and getting distracted by exploring their own toe jam with Deal or No Deal playing in the background.
Lately, I've finally started to feel comforted by all the pounding and bouncing around the Bean does inside of me. I wouldn't say the fetal movements "freaked me out" (though the hiccups sometimes do) but more they made me feel a little "invaded". Now I get kind of relaxed- feel a little proud- when he puts his left foot in, takes his left foot out, and especially when he shakes it all about...
These last few weeks are quickly flying by and I find myself trying to make them linger. I'm excited and eager for what comes next- it's what we've been waiting and planning for; and yet, I'm not quite ready to go there. I'm not sure I'll ever be prepared. I'm not sure I've paid enough attention or appropriately savored the times and experiences that are about to be over.
How many times will I experience this conundrum in the next 20-40 years of parenting?
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