Saturday, February 15, 2014
Only the beginning
Most of the time, I forget that I am I the midst of something sacred.
Most of the time, I just feel tired, uncomfortable, unmotivated and restless. I also notice a push-pull between wishing I could bunker down and hibernate and not have to see or speak to anyone... versus a yearning to share it all with someone who truly understands what being in this situation is like.
Technically, my due date is 9 March. And, as we all know, these dates are pretty arbitrary. It's a date that feels ridiculously far away, though realistically we are only talking about three weeks.
During my most recent appointment with my Obstetrician, there was some suggestion that (based on size) my son is tracking ahead of schedule and may arrive early. I am having an additional scan on Monday before my next appointment, to see if this can be verified.
And suddenly, having that ridiculously long time seems like a desirable thing, even though I have been complaining about how uncomfortable I've been feeling in the heat and wondering if an early arrival might not be a bad thing. There were a few things I kinda wanted to get done before my world turns upside down and inside out (including hosting my daughter's fifth birthday on 23 February). Now I feel panicked that I am running out of time or that my plans might get derailed.
It's been a strange old rollercoaster these past couple of weeks. There have been a lot of emotional triggers, particularly in my sister's experience as a new parent, which has closely mirrored my own of five years ago.
I notice that I carry a lot of dread in anticipation that a number of painful things that happened when my daughter arrived will happen again once my son does. Most of these are based on things I can't control, particularly the selfish and unhelpful behaviour of others.
I know I am not thinking rationally. I haven't been sleeping well and that isn't helping either. We're also in the midst of the huge transition to school life, which has been pretty smooth but also quite emotional and exhausting. I figure that hormones must also play a part, particularly in the urge to burrow down and get very quiet (some kind of ancient nesting instinct?).
I am trying to forgive myself for getting overwhelmed.
This is only the beginning, after all.