I distinctly recall being 37 weeks pregnant with both my Little Man and Moxie. There is sense of exuberation, the "I DID IT!!" kind of kick-my-heels-together-in-joy feeling. Knowing that if he were born today, he'd technically be okay, just fine. That I'm growing my little human well. It's marvelous.
And marvelous to feel marvelously about something when I've got that raging pelvic pressure, the inability to breathe much, the heartburn and neausea that smack me broadside. My swollen-ness, the fatigue, feeling nothing so much as a beached whale. And in all that, knowing how very good I have it – all this stuff I am experiencing is so dreadfully typical. I'm 39 years old, I'm chasing 2 little kids around all day. I'm so lucky this is the worst of it, and compared to other people, I know I have it easy. So I think I like to just complain sometimes, just to roll around in these last few weeks of being pregnant for the last time.
20 days, actually, of being pregnant for the last time. Or less, if he comes naturally.
Back to where we were – Boo in breach position. He's still in breach – we'll find out more later on today – but after extracting a promise from My One True Darling to make me as absolutely comfortable as possible, I've decided to let Boo incubate till the very end. No early slicing out.
I also heard 2 really comforting kernels of wisdom from friends:
1. A friend had 2 c-sections. She said her second was much better than the first, far more empowering. She said that each birth experience is really different and even if Boo comes via caesarean, there is room to hope and believe that his birth can be a lot easier and less traumatic than Micah's
2. Another friend reminded me this is a birth; it's not the Placenta Incident. I won't be in the hospital for a week alone with this. C-section or not.
I feel a lot more at peace about it all.
Yeah, sort of.
I think it's more true to say that I'm quietly kind of freaking out. About oh, just about everything.
The bed: how am I going to get up and down that loft thing?
The couch: will it be awful I sleep on the couch?
The dishes: ugh. Should we just stock up and use paper for the month of November?
Food: how do I get this stuff ready when I feel like I am going to explode any minute?
Clothes for Boo: oh wow. We are set for 3-6 months but it looks like he's got only two things to wear from 0-3mths.
Car Seat: between my Mom's car and ours, we need an update on all the seats, pretty much. Moxie's outgrown hers and I'm not sure that the car seat my friend Katie gave us for Boo will fit the stroller. Ack.
The kids: how is this going to happen? Mikey is only on leave for a week, then he's part time for a while longer.
** insert break for me to freak out and try to breathe and get washed up with stupid crazy heartburn **
Sometimes I despair at myself because I look at these other moms, their act so together. They have everything ready months before their baby comes. The problem with me and depression is that this is how it can work: I see some picture online of some perfect mom who has some perfect crib and layette and car seat and whatever for her baby. She's fit, she's read-set. Her baby won't be in breach! And then I feel like such a failure, and wonder what right do I even have, to be having kids, when I'm not like that? My kids don't ask to be brought into the world; how could I be so callous, so irresponsible, to bring them in when I don't have these things set up?
So the spiral starts and I slide right on down and get very, very upset. Depression never has rhyme or reason. It's a mindless song-and-dance of dark spinning wheels and clawing old memories that just want to embrace brightness, crush it in their murky, tar-like grip.
Then eventually I hit the bottom and look up and see the photos or whatever it was that originally got me started with that cycle of depression and think, oh but it will be okay. Kids like to be naked! Right?! All this baby really truly needs is love, breastmilk, sleep and a warm spot next to my heart. Right?
Don't go telling me I'm wrong now. I'm too hormonal.
I"ll go in this afternoon. See my OB, see how Boo is. I suppose things will be more clear at that point.
And it wouldn't hurt me at all if you sent a prayer or two my way: to keep my head up, my heart on, regardless of which direction this baby chooses to be in.