09 July 2009

I'm in a limbo, that vague unpredictable world of waiting for our baby to arrive. I'm now two days past my "official" due date, a number on the calendar I don't put a whole lot of stock in but which still served as a sort of compass point these past months. And so I sit and I wait. And my heart beats faster each time a contraction seizes me. And a not-so-small sense of disappointment settles upon me each time a subsequent contraction fails to materialize.

Emotionally, I have one foot in the "I can't wait to get this kid out and meet him/her" camp and the other in the "Birthing is huge. And kinda very intimidating" camp. Each day as I lumber around with all the various aching and stretched-out parts of my body hoping for relief, but then my mind tries to figure out how I'm going to cope with caring for a newborn on top of my full days. Baby come out. Baby stay in!

There's something very divisional about pregnancy in general. Throughout the 40 (or so) weeks, there's a part of my attention that's always focused inward at the growing person inside me. The awareness of the early flutterings and the later lurching rolls and kicks pulls on my mind while I'm driving, parenting, reading, eating. Always there's this split between the outward world and the private connection between baby and me.

Also, there is the further division of me as a mother. Four years ago I learned how to make the transition from being the mom of one to the mom of two. I'd never imagined that so much conscious effort would go into the daily balance of my energy between parenting both children. Now, already, the two older ones are sharing me with the baby as my energy drops, my patience shortens, and my ability to focus on nurturing them is cut back. Soon I'll be figuring out how to juggle caring for a baby while homeschooling, a process which I'm sure will be ongoing.

When Liam's mom passed away this winter I found myself in the midst of another type of divided awareness. Within me there was a new life, a growing spark. Around me was the suffering and an ending of a life. It was an intense situation and the loss of one so loved made the potential life expanding inside me even more precious.

I sit here in the doorway, looking back and looking forward and wondering when I'll get to pass through. I'm used to making plans and decisions, and this inability to say to baby "OK, today is the day you're born and this is how its going to go," is hard to accept. But maybe that's the point and maybe that's the lesson I need to learn before I get to proceed...


Erron said...

A nice introspective Kim. I think you may be underestimating you self though. Remember that a newborn is generally a pretty easy one to look after. Their demands are simple, milk every few hours. Having kids already and being pregnant is hard. Being "overdue" is hard. I remember waiting for Natalia I think the anticipation and medical questions from others is what drove me crazy. Your baby knows when he is to be born, he'll only come then.

Waiting is hard, and easy, I get that. You know how to do what you're already doing.

You're capable, you'll do great. I think I actually enjoy labour.

Life and death, what a funny little musing our brains wrestle with while pregnant. It's nearly always at the top of my mind. Sick being nauseous and tired the other day I had some reprieve and instead of being relieved or grateful, I was fearful. Though we are fearful of how manage, or how integrate another little person into our lives, we are protective of their being with all of ours.

Sending you tons of patience. Call someone over to make you lunch and play with the kids.

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