So today is the due date, according to our scan. Since only something like five per cent of women give birth on their due date and since my last baby was three hours’ short of being a 42-weeker, I feel like this is the one day I can completely rest in the expectation that I will not be going into labour.
Actually, I’ve been telling people from the start that the baby’s due somewhere sort of late February, early March. And I told myself that this time I was definitely not going to get impatient; I would be totally zen and whatnot. That was all well and good when my body was feeling amazing – so much energy and positivity, so much distraction with a two-year-old, so much physical relief with osteopathy. Just in this past week, it’s suddenly got a lot harder.
Exhaustion and nausea have returned almost first trimester-style. I am feeling the full weight of this heavily pregnant body. For the first time in this pregnancy, I’m experiencing pelvic girdle pain akin to that of my last and I really don’t have the money or inclination for any more osteopathy right about now. I had all these intentions for keeping active and staying out and about but, as it’s turned out, we haven’t been able to go anywhere, except once to a corner shop. Sweet Talitha keeps offering to kiss my pelvic girdle to help me feel better. What I’d really like is to nap all day long (or even for 30 minutes) but she’s not buying into quiet time this week.
I’m realising that I have to stay mind-over-matter about this, though, because the reality is that we may have another two weeks to go before we meet this new person who’s joining our family (and before I get another grown up to stay home with us for a bit). Whether we have hours, days or weeks left, I don’t want these last moments to be really crappy because I’m all grumpy and over it.
Yesterday, when nausea was at its worst, I found myself clock-watching, which I feel really awful about. These are the last days of having this concentrated one-to-one time with my two-year-old. Actually, make that my 32-month-old because she’s still a baby, really, even if she insists that she’s “a big girl”. We had some really fun moments together but I did end up almost losing the plot towards the end and convinced her to start the bedtime routine a little early.
I’m in a place right now where I’m not sure which I’d rather have: certainty that I’m going to give birth really soon or a set time frame for how long my child is going to keep asking me “Why?” on repeat.
On the upside, I think that this frustration is because, on some level, I feel ready. Back in June when I found out I was pregnant again, my excitement was peppered with so much worry: How would I cope with two? What would birth be like this time? Would I once again struggle to breastfeed? Could I do sleep deprivation again?
Other mothers reminded me that nine months is a long time. So much can change, and, well, so much has. I truly feel fears have been released over these weeks and I thank God for that. Talitha has grown up lots and understands more than I’d expected she would. I’m still making huge mistakes in my parenting but at least I can genuinely look back and see growth, which is something I rarely allowed myself to notice or believe before.
Even if I’m not completely ready to do this thing, I’m prepared to give it a hell of a go, anyway.
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