I remember this feeling all too well. I’ve finally reached the “end” of pregnancy, but each day feels like an eternity. My body is voluminous, awkward, achy, and temperamental. Very little feels within my control. I try to remain positive, but crankiness creeps in, alongside exhaustion,
and unsatisfied nesting.
I’m ready to hold this little guy, to feel his tiny fingers wrap around mine, to nurse him to sleep. Labor is uncertainty, patience, impatience, expectation, disappointment, surprise. It’s making a plan and being willing to throw it out the window. It’s flexibility, when every inch of you feels inflexible.
There is so much to accomplish in a day, first and foremost engaging with my family. But my energy reserves are gone and I’m wearing of smiling through the discomfort. Thank goodness for store made chocolate milk, my husband’s hand to hold, and kids who go downstairs to play “so mom can rest.”
I’ve never had a baby come earlier, but I’m praying this guy will surprise us and at a minimum not be late. I have 2 weeks to go and thought last night’s 2 hours of contractions were “it,” until the downgraded to consistent and random pain.
Just 2 to 3 more weeks and my body will be me again. I’ll be me again. Well, sort of. Me – a mom of 4.
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