One week left till my due date.
I wish that actually meant something, but I’m learning that it doesn’t. Especially for me — a “first timer.” The due date is just an approximation . . . a guess . . . a day that can come and go without a baby.
The closer I get to September 1st, the more anxious and worried I am that I will end up going PAST that day. This is not good news to me. I’m ready to be D.O.N.E.
It’s silly really — this overwhelming desire to give birth NOW. I haven’t had a difficult pregnancy — there was no morning sickness, no threat of pre-term labor, no scary test results. Aside from the heartburn and grotesquely swollen feet, it’s been an ideal pregnancy.
But, I find myself ready, MORE than ready, to have our baby boy. I’m tired of feeling like a stiff board has been stuffed into my abdomen, making any movement next to impossible. I’m tired of not sleeping at night — thanks to a mixture of insomnia and the fact that every possible sleeping position is the very definition of “uncomfortable.”
Oh, yeah, and I’m tired of the Little Lady knowing that she can outrun me. This is NOT good info for a toddler to possess — especially a toddler who is going through a “I-can-do-whatever-I-want-and-I-don’t-care-what-you-say” phase. The Little Lady deliberately disobeys these days, knowing that she only has to run faster than me. Talk about wearing a mama OUT!
But, there is, mixed in with all of this anxiety to give birth soon, an overwhelming sense of guilt. Why am I so anxious to see the end of this miraculous adventure, when I spent YEARS struggling with and depressed over my infertility?
Why?
WHY am I not relishing these last few days of movements and kicks — precious, private moments that may never come my way again? Moments that, forever and a day, I longed to experience. Moments that I envied of the Little Lady’s birth mother when she was expecting our sweet girl.
I feel ashamed when I think about my impatience, when I hear myself voicing my thoughts — “I just want this kid OUT of me!” I have been given two unbelievable, amazing gifts — motherhood through adoption and motherhood through pregnancy. Both equally miraculous. But, I find myself taking this journey for granted and wishing it over.
Sigh.
