Gobble Gobble

So I think I’ve gained enough weight to make the floor creak in new places.  Maybe I should enjoy my new found instruments and make an organized orchestra of melody.

Today is Thanksgiving. To say I’m “thankful” is an understatement. If someone had told me two years ago that today I’d be 5 months pregnant, Steve would be out of the hospital and living a relatively healthy life, certainly in spirit and that we’d be happy, really happy I would’ve kicked them in the junk. But here we are. It’s easy to bypass the notion of where we’ve come but it’s more important to never forget.  Not only am I grateful for what we’ve overcome but I’m thankful to think ahead, to think of where we’ll be this time next year. I hope that next year I can look back and be even more amazed as to where we’ve come and feel the same amount of love and gratitude that I feel right now. Happy Thanksgiving everyone, in the truest sense of the phrase 

Changes

Feeling moody today, what else is new? The other day someone told me I was “getting there.” I’m 4 months pregnant. I told him, “So are you.”

I knew that everything would change. I read that my emotions would be out of whack, seriously out of whack, but I never thought I’d throw a bottle of bubble bath when I couldn’t find my sock. I knew my body would change and that I’d get on the scale and want to cry but I didn’t think I actually would. It’s a strange, no terrible feeling to lose control of your body, your emotions. No matter how many times I remind myself that it’s ok, all ok, it never helps. I eat great, for a pregnant woman, I try to get as much exercise as my stretching ligaments will allow but it doesn’t change the fact that my legs swell and that the only thing I feel comfortable in is leggings and a large sweater. I didn’t know how I’d feel about getting winded quickly after climbing 5 stairs, I knew I wouldn’t enjoy staying home while my husband goes out with friends but I didn’t know how it would truly feel. How I’d truly feel about everything.

This has been quite an experience. I’m trying to enjoy myself and think that it will all be over soon and then I’ll probably miss it, but alas it’s easier said than done.

I started writing a journal to my baby girl. I want to write things that I’d never tell her in person, about myself, about her father and when I die I want her to feel like she knows things about her mother that no one ever knew.  A mother and daughter relationship is special, dramatic and the closest bond you can ever have. And it starts now, right now as my baby girl grows into life. 

Expecting

When a baby is born expectations arise. You want your baby to be “perfect.” You need them to be as you expected. I fantasize about my baby every day. What will she look like? Who will she act like? But what if she’s not what I expected? How do I put expectations aside and face reality?

I’ve come to learn/realize that when a baby is born they immediately take on their own identity. They develop at their own pace, make decisions accordingly, although those decisions mostly consist of whether to sleep or eat, and we are forced to sit by the wayside and watch. As parents our job is to support. In actuality a person has been born who might not go by the book of normalcy, might sing a tune to her own melody and accepting that notion is anything but easy. When Steve was very sick we attempted attending a backyard BBQ at our best friend’s house. It was hard for Steve to sit upright in a chair let alone eat and be social but he tried. We took a picture of Steve sitting in a chair with me hovering over and hugging him in a protective sort of fashion. I didn’t realize what I was doing I just did it. I remember showing the picture to someone and having them telling me that Steve looked like my son and I looked like I was trying to protect him. They were right. I was treating my husband like my son. I had become a protective “mother” trying to support her sick son. For a while that’s all I could do, I had to be that way. But there came a day when that had to stop. Steve isn’t my son and offering him the love and support he needed without the protective motherly quality was challenging. Honestly I’m still working on it today.

We found out on 11.11.11, Steve’s 30^th birthday that we’re having a baby girl. A girl!!! Wow, she’s going to be so spoiled.

This week my baby can hear my voice. Her ears have developed to the point that she can recognize my voice apart from others. They say if you sing a particular song consistently to your unborn child they will recognize it when they're born. I guess now’s a good time to lay off the swear words since I officially have an audience.

I was a "protective mother" to Steve for almost 2 years soon I’ll be a legitimate mother to a little girl. I’m trying to keep my expectations to a minimum but it’s not easy. I guess they don’t call it “expecting” for nothing.