photo from my maternity shoot with the fantastic Tara Whitney. More to come.
Rounding the corner here. Still reasonably patient. The end of the pregnancy sort of reminds me of the end of high school or the the end of college. You wait about nine months (and many, many years in those cases) for the end to arrive. You talk about how exciting it will be when it's all over. You throw a party when you reach the "100 days" countdown. You take a bunch of tests and get bombarded with a lot of advice. Everyone reminds you to "Enjoy it because it goes soooooo fast!" You worry about getting through it. You wonder what's next. You're anxious for the end to come.
And then...those final weeks actually arrive.
And suddenly, your countdown feels odd. You realize you've really enjoyed this time. You can't go back after this. You'll say good-bye and move forward forever. And even though you're thrilled, you're nostalgic.
This is it. In the very best way. I am so happy that we're soon embarking on the next adventure. I cannot wait to meet this little one! My life is ready as it's going to get for a Big Change. But, with about two weeks left, I have to really appreciate this. Appreciate that my body is doing all the work. Appreciate that it's keeping my girl healthy and safe while my mind just gets to think about what we need from Target or what sort of bookcase would look good in the corner or how many things I have left on my to-do list. Soon she'll arrive and both my mind and body will go into overdrive, caring for this piece of my heart that now lives in the world.
I can hardly wish this time away.
I have a feeling she'll come after her due date. I think we'll get Paul home and then she'll enter our lives. I think with all the abnormalities we've experienced in this pregnancy, the end will be comically normal. I'll go into labor in the middle of the day at home. Paul will drive me to the hospital. They'll have lost my pre-registration paperwork. (Do they ever not lose it?) I'll deliver the baby. Paul will cut the cord. We'll all cry and become a family of three in the same room. Of course, I'm not married to this plan (how could I be?) but if I was venturing a guess, that's it.
Paul, on the other hand, thinks she'll come early. Before he's home. I can imagine that - delivering her with my mom in the room and hopefully Paul on facetime - as well. The benefit there, the one I cling to, is that I'll be able to be actively present in the moment when he and baby girl meet for the first time. I'll be able to prepare for him to enter the room (or step off the airplane). I'll be able to open my eyes as wide as I can and take in the exact second he meets his daughter. I'll burn it into my heart and savor it forever.
So yes, one way or another (and obviously, there are a million possible scenarios aside from the two above), the end is coming. The countdown is dwindling. We'll get there. We'll deal. "We'll deal." has become my motto. "I trust you, body. I trust you, baby." has become my mantra.
