Prenatal Pondering

I have been pregnant now for a few days over eight months. Lately, people have been staring at my belly, and when they finally peel their eyes off of the basketball shape under my shirt, they ask me how I'm doing.

Except for the man who works at Ace Hardware. That man asked me how much longer I had. When I told him a month, he asked if I was having more than one. You should never ask a pregnant woman that.

Not ever.

The honest answer to this heartfelt inquiry is a complicated one. It's long. It's involved--too long and involved for a quick reply to the quick question. So normally, I reply, "Great!" Because that's true.

People don't always buy that, so sometimes I say, "I'm hanging in there." Because that's true, too.

I won't stay this way forever, and I know I'll miss it when it's gone, so I wanted to record some of what I feel, even though the answer is long and involved.

Here's a piece of my heart. I feel:

Excited. This is a lame adjective, but other moms out there will relate. How do you properly label the feeling of anticipating this person you love so much but have yet to meet? I have no idea what she looks like. She hid her face and her profile during the ultrasound. I'm assuming she'll look like a sibling, but still, I have no idea. But I know her spirit intimately. I feel her with me. I feel her excitement, too, and it keeps me pressing forward.

Tired. I probably feel this more than any other emotion. I can fall asleep anytime, anywhere. And I do. I can tell I am a full decade older than when I was pregnant with my first. My husband is patient with the way I pass out on the couch, the floor, the kids' beds, the passenger's seat... But I'm sure he misses the party girl he married. Truthfully, I miss her, too. And I have this sneaky premonition that she's gone for good.

Happy. Sad. Angry... I'm pretty sure I feel every emotion on the entire emotion continuum throughout the course of a day. This is weird for me. Not pregnant, I'm a pretty even-tempered, no-fuss, steady girl. Emotionally challenged might be a better adjective here.

Scatter-brained. Today I was making cookies, and I forgot to set the timer. But when I realized this, I noticed the timer was set and had seventeen minutes left. I asked my husband if I had set that. He confirmed that it was me, and that I had set it for twenty minutes. I had absolutely no recollection of that. It's a good thing I'm good at basic math, because I could fix the predicament by taking the cookies out when the timer had eleven minutes left. But really? Maybe I'm getting alzheimer's already.

Certain. When I went to one of my OB appointments, my doctor asked me a series of questions about my intentions to see this pregnancy to conclusion and the possible scenarios that would persuade me to abort. I looked him in the eyes and told him this baby was no accident. I wanted it. I meant to conceive. I was finishing the race, even if I crossed the finish line on my hands and knees. He must have sensed my fierce resolution because he defensively responded, "Okay, okay. I have to ask. I understand." There is nothing I want more in all of forever than my family. And I am certain this baby is meant to be part of our family.

Swollen. My feet, my hands, my legs, my arms, my face--I don't feel like myself any more. The girl in the mirror is a bloated stranger, wearing my eyes and my smile. I've learned that swollen feet hurt to stand on all day. More than once I have been limping by the time I serve dinner. And then when I sit down, my feet throb. My hands are numb in the morning, and they take a long time to "wake up". Some days, they never do. I haven't been wearing my wedding ring for about sixteen weeks now. I have to wonder, "Will it ever fit again?" I'm not convinced it will.

Thankful. I've tried to make good choices in my life. I feel God's bounteous blessings. But this--I've never done anything that good to receive this. I've felt this way with every baby. I'm convinced that if I had one hundred babies, I would never get over the immense gratitude I feel to work in partnership with Heaven for the creation of life.

Scared out of my mind. Can I really do it? Will I be a good mom this time around? Am I going to fail my baby? I don't want to fail! Will she know how much I love her? Will I be able to give her all that she needs? How can I balance the demands of a new baby with my long list of duties I already have?

I was feeling quite worried the other day, and expressed my fears to my husband. He pointed out that at least I don't do crack. So, there's always that. My home is, by virtue of my drug-free existence, better than other homes a baby could go to, I guess.

Eternally aware. What I mean is, I have been given a perspective that extends before birth and beyond the grave. I feel the truth that we are God's literal spirit children. I know we lived before this life, and that we will live after it. I am sure that life on this earth is sacred and imperative, though short in comparison to the length of eternity. Life matters. Our choices matter. Our progression matters.

Loved. I feel God's love every day, in small, significant, personal ways. One day last week, I was beyond exhausted. I still had a lot to do to serve dinner and lull my babies to sleep. It was especially daunting because they were beyond tired and my husband wouldn't be home until after bedtime. I knew I couldn't go on without divine help. I bowed my head and uttered a fervent, silent prayer, pleading for Heaven to aid me. I was immediately aware of God's sustaining love, and miracle of miracles, I made it through the night before I collapsed in a tired, satisfied, fulfilled heap.

Impatient. Knowing how important it is for baby to cook the full nine months, I don't want this baby early. But, I've done this before, so I know for myself that there is nothing more hopeful, joyful, or full of love than a new baby, fresh from heaven. God extends a piece of Himself to our home, and we are the better for it.

It's always the last month that's the longest. Maybe I'll just sleep it out...