Sorry it's been so long, friends. There are days I'm so tired I can't remember if I've
a) bathed (I can't smell me)
b) fed my child ( I think so, though, because she seems to keep growing)
c) flushed the toilet...
My first pregnancy, I was spoiled with naps and rest while young, shirtless, men fed me grapes and other finger fruits (i.e. the hubs threw a candy bar at me on his way to the shower). I was off work due to complications, had little responsibilities and many aspirations of one day being the next [female] Steven Tyler.
But this one is SO different.
I have to actually do stuff. Work. Raise a person while growing one. Take care of bills and errands and offspring school stuff and cleaning and and and...My point is, I'm drained me to the point of nearly forgetting my name. Call me Beth. Or Tina. I don't care.
But despite my fatigue, something happened. I started having strong contractions, so I called my doctor. He asked me to come in for some sort of test that determines if I'm in pre-term labor. Luckily, I was not, but due to the last pregnancy, and the delicacy of this one, he put me on restriction and made weekly visits for the [horrible] test mandatory...until I deliver...which is suppose to be another 11 weeks.
The thing that got me wasn't what he said, how he said it or even what was happening. The baby will come when he wants to. All I can do is hope he waits until he's healthy enough. What really stung was the room they put me in. Not since September 28th, 2009 had I been in that corner office.
Almost exactly 2 years since the day he told me my baby was dead; the day before the "tissue" was removed...
But instead of feeling anxious, short of breath, or even panicked, I felt a sense of totality. Like everything has come one hundred percent full circle. Once in the room where life had ended, I was now there waiting for life to begin (continue). It was surreal. And I realize now more than ever how blessed I am to have been chosen to carry this baby. And I will tell myself this through every singe of heartburn, every body ache, every swollen inch of skin.
Tell me, friends, what have I been missing (other than you)?