Wednesday, April 27, 2011

So this is what the days are like:

The baby sleeps, and I worry. I poke its little bum and try to wake it up. It wakes up.
The baby rocks and rolls, and kicks and stretches, and I worry. Don't move too much! Is this panicky movement? Will it turn breech and get tangled up? Slow down!

I have never had such a wild baby, to be honest, and it's kind of freaking me out. It looks so cute on ultrasound but it's hard for them to measure anything because it won't stop moving.

It has scored well the last two BPPs. Thank goodness for that.

(and I'm sorry to repeatedly call my son or daughter it, but the he/she gets cumbersome)

There are exactly three days left in April, after today. Then we face May.

How am I supposed to feel about May this time?

Do I grieve? Hope? Fear?

(perhaps withdraw?)

For a few minutes yesterday, I allowed myself to remember that feeling that consumes me when I am home with a brand new baby, just settled on the couch, or in my sleigh bed, nestled in with the hustling and bustling of the other children around me, and my mum in the kitchen making me delicious food, and the phone ringing with excited voices. I could almost feel this strange emotion that just wraps itself around me, this cocoon of something that seemed almost recognizable but a little out of reach.

Was it joy? Delight? Passion? I imagined myself looking down at the sweet, swaddled bundle at my breast, and I could feel that something rush in again, and suddenly I recognized it:


Above everything else, there has been relief. The freedom from absolute constant, eternal, paralyzing fear. There is nothing like this feeling of being suddenly freed, like a young, energetic bird. The euphoria and bliss of a new life settle gently into this amazing quiet pudding of a time where the fear is so different, and where at least there is only the known.

I can see the baby, I can feel her breathe. I can rest my head on her chest and hear her little heart beat. I hold her against my chest and feel her little toes on the outside of my skin, and there is some element of control: I can protect her now.

This has happened three times, and I want it just one more time.



Ya Chun said...

Relief - I think it is totally the strongest emotion I felt when Bea gave her first cry.

Sending you strength, patience, and hope.

Big Love, Big Acceptance - or so I say said...

I hadn't thought of this before - I think it names what I am looking and waiting for - relief. Relief when my baby arrives here safe and sound, alive and well. I can't even begin to imagine the sense of relief!

kris said...

I will hold that picture in my mind and heart for you in these next, snuggled in tight with a fresh, new baby in your arms as Fiona plays at your feet, Aoife dances around the room, Liam reads the new one a story...and Charlotte watches over you all.

Take good care, my friend.

Aleina said...

I can relate to this so, so much.

Hope's Mama said...

I think you can grieve, hope, fear and even withdraw if you want to. You have to do what you need to do to survive. I know you have done this a few times before now, but it doesn't necessarily make it any easier.
Now that I'm finally "out" with my own pregnancy (!!) I can say that come August, I'm sure I will be doing the same. I can't believe your May 2011 is most probably going to look like my August 2011. I hope we both get the very best outcomes, with a huge dose of sweet relief to follow.

Rika said...

Thinking of you and that rolly polly baby in your tummy. xo

Lara said...

Thinking of you. It is such a challenge. Calm and steady. Just hang in their a little longer. There are lots of may birthdays around me. My husbands is the 7th and lots of sweet healthy girls and boys all around our town. Can't wait till we can feel relief with you. Much Love, Lara