T-minus Ten Days
Something happened when I hit week 38 of this pregnancy.
I’ve stopped wanting to go outside and drive somewhere.
I’ve started getting physically and emotionally overwhelmed at simple things: taking out the trash, making the bed, taking a shower.
I’ve started hibernating.
I have another OB visit this Thursday and an ultrasound that I’m dreading because it means I have to get dressed in public-viewing clothes and leave the house.
The husband looks at my belly with compassion, with words like, “Babe, your belly is huge.” I don’t take offense because it is! I don’t remember my pre-baby middle.
My days consist of the following:
I sleep as long as I can, especially if I have been up most of the night with insomnia. (If I really can’t sleep, I sneak out of bed, pour a glass of 2% milk, grab a Fiber One Bar (pumpkin flavor being my favorite), and binge watch a bit of Madam Secretary on Netflix.)
I feed the pets, who are really concerned that I’ve been in bed until almost noon. They act like they’ve been fasting for forty days.
I sit at the table and eat breakfast (usually cereal of some kind, perhaps yogurt, maybe an egg and some turkey bacon) and drink a cup of tea (while counting down the days until I can drink my coffee again).
Then, I come into the office and internet surf. Sometimes I write, like this morning oh wait it’s afternoon.
The rest of my day is unknown. I may take another nap. I may collect clothing for the wash. I may clean the bathroom. I may make the bed. But it’s never more than one or two of those things. If I’m really doing well, I think of dinner. Lunch is a series of random food items I scavenge from the kitchen (driving anywhere to grocery shop is no longer a viable option).
And then I wait. First, for the husband to come home from work. But most of all, I wait for the baby to come home from my uterine space.
November 18th felt very far away back in March. And I check the calendar today, and it still feels very far away.
A friend of mine sent this to me, and I think it’s very true.
It’s like being in a small waiting room. It’s cozy, and it’s decorated nicely, but I’ve been in here for nine months, and my name still hasn’t been called, and I still don’t know when it’s going to be time.
And then it will suddenly be time, won’t it?