I'm exactly thirty four weeks pregnant today, and it is becoming increasingly clear that this whole situation is going to end in a third member joining our family. John's movements resemble a dolphin swimming under the sea of my belly, and last night I very distinctly felt a hand (my husband says the baby's giving us "knucks"). My baby bump has gone from demure and rounded to an ever-shifting ellipse that frequently appears to have corners as John seeks out space to stretch.
I'm headed to the midwifery clinic today for another round of measuring and weighing, poking and prodding, and as I approach the front of the birthing center, I'll be very aware that at some point in the next 4-5 weeks (unless he decides to make us wait) when I drive up to that brick building, it will be in rather a different kind of hurry. I'm starting to think about packing my hospital bag, which includes the rather monumental task of picking out the baby's first outfit, as well as guessing what I'll fit into after he's vacated the premises.
As uncomfortable as I'm getting, I'm sure it's going to be a major adjustment to be un-pregnant again. Of course, there's the adjustment to being a mother and having a tiny person reliant on my rack for snacks and on my husband and I for his survival in this world, but I'm also sure I'll miss the science experiment of always having company in my belly and the constant sense that my body is doing something monumental and worthy of praise. I've struggled with body image throughout this pregnancy, but it's also one of the first times in a very long time that I've felt a constant sense of pride in my body rather than a low grade anxiety about if it's an ok one (body, that is). My body has been obviously and overtly busy making a life, which has felt like a hall pass when it comes to appearance, but pregnancy is finite and I'm guessing it will be a bit of a rocky transition for me to get reacquainted with myself as me alone.
I've also been aware of a shift in my attention away from externals (like checking facebook, keeping up with this blog, and traffic lights). It's as though my mind is going into hibernation in preparation for the big push that lies ahead. I walk around in a gentle fog, happily forgetting words, phone numbers, rules of the road and principles of therapeutic care. I think I'm also aware that those externals (well, probably not the rules of the road or how to be a therapist) are just not that important. Much of what I think I know about what it will be like to be the mother of an infant (much of which is probably wrong, but...) is that my world will be reduced and focused in on him like a homing beam. We will sleep, we will eat, we will try to keep up with bodily functions, his Daddy will make us laugh, and then we'll eat again. But you know what? Facebook and blogs can wait. Indefinitely, if need be.
