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?
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.