|(image via weheartit.com)|
1. Today I cried reading a book review in the newspaper, listening to Ben tell me a story about a wrestler accepting his entry into the hall of fame, and watching a commercial for Coronas.
2. My grocery store purchases this week included spinach, strawberries, chicken breast, chickpeas, brown rice, 5 gallons of water…and strawberry Pop Tarts, a sugary treat that I haven’t thought twice about since I was 8 years old, but could not leave the cereal aisle without.
3. I wear yoga pants to work now. I pair them with boots and long cardigans, and no one would be the wiser, if I could just stop boasting about it,
4. I am three months pregnant. On October 20th (tentatively), I will somebody’s mother.
Pregnancy in the first months can be slightly isolating. There is a lot of secrecy, a piece of pregnancy etiquette that I really struggled with. I was amazed, frightened, and elated. I wanted to gossip about it with everyone, especially all the mothers I work with in an elementary school setting. I wanted to tell people, but I wasn’t sure how to go about it. I called family members individually, but only got to tell Ben’s parents face-to-face, and they are the only ones not a plane ride away. Even though I was very careful about who knew at work, the rumor still spread like wildfire, and so I ended up telling a lot of people before I was prepared to, and most had heard already. After I saw the heartbeat on my early ultrasound, I went ahead and posted a picture of our little blob on Facebook. And now I want to write about it here.
I’ve known that I was pregnant since February 16th. I took the test right before I left for work, then spent the rest of the week positively trembling with anticipation, grinning giddily to myself and texting Ben enthusiastically at every break throughout the day. As the news settled in, I felt any stress or dissatisfaction I had been fighting melt away. I scared myself by bursting into tears with the fierceness of my love for the tiny clump of cells inside of me within days of finding out what was happening. When I try to put words to it, it doesn’t seem enough, but knowing this baby is coming seems like I’ve been holding my breath for a few years and now that I’m getting air again, I’m annoyed at myself for thinking that shutting my mouth and holding my nose was going to accomplish anything all. My brain knows that 25 is a really good age to be a mama, but my deeper soul, the voice that I listen to far less often, is clicking it’s tongue and sighing, “It’s about time.” This feels so right.
I’ve been exhausted and nauseous and second-guessing every single twitch and twinge my fantastic body feels. I’ve been lucky to have a really supportive team of midwives at a hospital 2 minutes from my house. I’ve called or texted my mother constantly to ask about what I can eat, why I am feeling [insert creepy symptom here], and because I knew she would understand why I couldn’t stop crying when I heard the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. It was the strongest relief I’ve ever known.
My 25 list is going to have to change (why is 90% of it substance related?) but I’m hoping to keep crossing things off up to and after the baby is home. I’m also writing letters to my little gloworm in another blog that I plan to print into a little book for a keepsake. You can read it here.