I’ve reached 38 weeks. Only “13 days” to go (sooner would be okay!) until this squirmy little girl vacates the premises. It’s coming much faster and painfully slower than I can believe. I’m having issues with my blood pressure this time that I’ve not had with past pregnancies. It rises over the limit it should be under then once rechecked it’s back down to normal levels. I feel like I can tell throughout the day when it is probably higher than normal and have been asked to monitor it at home throughout the week.
I’m finding the smallest tasks to almost be too much for me and have to sit down in the middle of cooking lunch or getting dressed. I get so dizzy and out of breath. And my old buddies of previous pregnancies are back to hang out, in case I missed them, those wonderful pelvic pains and bladder spasms. And I came down with a cold or allergy this week that just makes me want to curl up into a little ball for the next month or two.
I’m ready and done, but also dread what comes next. Something I read recently put very well my thoughts on the task ahead:
One would think that the more one does something, the more confident about doing that something one would become. But, no, not here. The more I birth, the more I am rendered inert, bewildered, afraid. The pain, the blood, the crushing helplessness poured liberally out of me, upon me, over and over and over again, teach all too well that in birth I am no goddess. Rather, I am caught and shaken like meat in ravenous jaws. There can be no escape. There can be no exertion or insistence or distinction of self, for I am but the matter upon which Birth enacts its form. In short, I am a woman, and accursed. All the baths, balls, and balms in the world detract nothing from the shame of my flesh, which cannot—not even when hoisted on rhetorical crutches—do well that which it was most especially designed to do: carry a child into the world.
If even the most blessed Virgin cried out in the agony of birth, how can I expect anything but agony? If even our most holy Lord was born under perilous circumstances, yea, even under the cross of death, why would peril be missing from the births of my children? Kyrie eleison.
From Gauntlets
Photo is of the “Naked Ladies” from our front yard. Yes, I love that there are “Naked Ladies” in Pastor’s front yard. I’m sure whoever planted them is getting a good laugh.
***Update: Strange, maybe there is something to the “nesting instinct“. Today I made muffins, cleaned 2 bathrooms that have been neglected for 4 weeks and have the 5th load of laundry in the machine right now. Does this mean baby will come EARLY??? Please?
