I have realized that this whole pregnancy - all of 2009 so far, since I've been pregnant the entire year - has been just one long time line. The end of the time line is the delivery of our baby. Until then, I am simply going through the motions of keeping myself comfortable and occupied. I have made no true attempt at anything out of the ordinary. I have spent the year only wanting for time to pass. It has, surprisingly, passed quicker than I expected. It's crazy to think we have only a month to go. Everything I do floats amidst thoughts of the baby, the pregnancy, and a hope for it all to come to a joyous end (with the unrealistic hopes of a painless labor and delivery).
I have sadly passed up margaritas and longingly watched people smoke at a hookah bar. Every restaurant I go to, I read every page of their ridiculously colorful and splashy drink menu (the drinks are always splashing out of the glass on the drink menus), and plan on which one will be my first drink once River is here. My mouth has watered at the thought of spicy tuna sushi from Sushi Zushi. I have eaten approximately 25 lunchmeat sandwiches my entire pregnancy, not without feeling a twinge of guilt (the newest thing health practitioners have decided to scare pregnant women about is that they can catch some horrible disease by eating lunchmeat). I have also given in and eaten two over-easy eggs, holding desperately to the fact that only one in every 10,000 eggs carries salmonella (also blaming it partly on my poor sweet grandmother, who doesn't know pregnant women can't eat over-easy eggs. She asked if I wanted them over-easy, so how could I refuse?). Food effects me now more than ever, and my eating habits have changed significantly, as my midwife has informed me that the difference between having a six pound baby and a ten pound baby is determined on my fat and sugar intake. I'll take the six pounder, thanks. Once, I accidentally took one bite of an unwashed apple, and I vaguely wondered if the pesticides would cross the placenta and give me a deformed baby.
I spent my birthday lying on the couch, nauseated, but had the energy that night to make a visit to Border's, where my time was spent reading pregnancy books and wondering what my baby would look like. The morning sickness eventually ended, but then came the growing baby - even when I wasn't showing, I hated anything touching my stomach. So I have been wearing loose fitting, comfy and frumpy clothes almost for the entire pregnancy. Long gone are the days when I get dressed to look remotely attractive. The other day I apologized to my husband for wearing the same outfit three days in a row - yoga pants and a tanktop - but I assured him the clothes had been washed. The next day, I wore a different outfit, washed my yoga pants and tank top, wore it yet again the next day. Screw it. I just want to be comfortable.
When I was about three months pregnant, my sister asked me if I ever for a second, forgot I was pregnant. (But honestly, how could I when I was throwing up everyday?) Nope. Since I found out, it is constantly on my mind, in some light or another. At first, the light had the glow of "I'm pregnant? Bring it!" Now it's more like, "Can this be over? Please..."
One of my closest friends just found out she's pregnant. I have enjoyed discussing pregnancy and childcare with her more than anyone (besides my own mother, who just happens to be my BFF). We have very similar non-traditional (by today's American standards, anyhow...actually, I think they're so traditional they're non-traditional.) philosophies of birth, children, health, education, and life general. I am absolutely thrilled to know she has a new little life growing in her, and I can't wait for the day our kids can play together. Today we were at Barnes and Noble, and she picked up a book entitled "Pregnancy Sucks." She shook her head disapprovingly and stuffed it back in the shelf. I laughed, and a little voice inside said, Just you wait, sweety. I think I had the same reaction to that book when I was newly pregnant. In fact, I know I did. Ha! I no longer feel guilty anymore when I admit I hate being pregnant. I embrace it.
Is there anything more surprising than the day a baby decides to show up? I guess with all these medical interventions and inductions and what-not (oh, but I could go on forever about that crap) most mommies these days know when their babies are coming. But I have no clue. I am pretty satisfied with my ninth month so far - it has been quite pleasant (minus the heartburn, backache, difficulty breathing, achy ribs, and insomnia). So right now, it's easy for me to say I think I'll be able to wait patiently. I'm sure, however, when I start reaching the tenth day past my due date, I will be saying something entirely different (just you wait and see. I'm sure there will be at least a couple more posts while I am still pregnant).
But, any way you look at it, the end of the time line is approaching. I just don't know exactly where the end is. I have a rough estimate, and I guess that's good enough. I am so ready for time to stop. I am so ready to put all my attention on my baby boy. Labor and delivery? Bring it.