Two Days, Two Weeks, a Lifetime

I sit here, two days before the baby’s due date, feeling stupidly inarticulate. You can insert every truism and cliché here. We are experiencing them all. And they feel so damn profound. I wish I had a greater mind, a more extensive literary canon under my belt, something to fuel some unique insight, some earth-tilting observation.

Instead, we’re waiting. Could be two days. Could be two weeks. After that, a lifetime. After 8 1/2 months of feeling superb, walking miles a day, and generally loving pregnancy, I have developed a kinked up sacrum that keeps me from walking very well, and have reached that “done” phase that everyone tells you about. It seemed unimaginable a week ago but—truism!—you reach a point when you want it to all be over. I guess I’m there.

Other not-so-unique experiences: Chris has finally to the guest room so we can both get much-needed sleep. My food intake has accelerated. Rubbing pressure points and applying essential oils does not result in instant labor.

Things that I am relishing: I don’t want to do much other than knit, and that’s okay. I haven’t lost “me”—I still feel feisty and politically and intellectually curious (I spent yesterday morning listening to Sally Yates testify before the Senate Judiciary Committee and totally enjoyed myself). Smoothies are a wonderful way to ingest leafy greens and chia and flax seeds and homemade kombucha. Chris gives very good back rubs in just the right places. I can say “no” and feel no guilt about it.

Moochie is miserable. She doesn’t understand why we’ve abandoned our regular walk cycle. She spends the better part of the day between 10:30am and 4:30pm looking miserably at me, letting out huge sighs, and trying to tempt me to throw her grotesque Garfield toy for the 1,001st time. (“No, trust me! It’s really fun! Just throw it!! THROW IT DAMMIT!!!”)

I managed to plant the veggie bed, and the flower planters. And the potatoes. I have about a dozen house plants that need to be repotted, but that is definitely in the “not going to happen” category. (I have that on my list for Brendan Greenthumb when he comes.) I have some work projects that I’d still like to finish, but I don’t feel particularly committed to them and they’re non-essential. Chris keeps reminding me that I don’t have to do a single thing right now, and I’m appreciative of that. Brendan does the same. “Take it easy, sister. And I mean it.” Very hard when you’re the offspring of our mother, but I’m making an attempt.

I tried to send thank you notes to everyone who sent us anything, and pray I didn’t miss anything. Our nursery is full of lovely, thoughtful gifts.

Basically, we’re ready!