Five and a half years ago, I sat in an Italian restaurant in Seattle, one of many women gathering to celebrate a friend who, with marriage on the horizon, was about to write a new chapter of her life. I, too, was in the process of writing a new chapter of my life, a few weeks into the second trimester of my first pregnancy. Conversations ebbed and flowed around the table, creating our soundtrack as we awaited dinner. I sat beside a fellow educator several years my senior, a mother of two whose reflection on her own pregnancies has stayed with me and become my own truth. \”I\’ve never felt more connected to nature than during pregnancy and childbirth,\” she shared.
Tomorrow marks the 36 week point for Baby and me. With it comes relief. Not relief that the end is in sight, but relief that Baby and I have made it this far together, further than I did with Keats and almost as far as I did with Wren. With it comes an urgency to write about this experience before it becomes a memory. With it also comes a bittersweet reality. While I eagerly await meeting my little one, holding him in my arms, and shifting my identity to that of a mama of three, I simultaneously want to dig in my heels and find a way to slow down time.
I\’m one of the fortunate ones who loves pregnancy with every inch of my being. Not only do I feel more connected to nature, to the multitude of mammals who grow and birth their children, but I feel more connected to my own body, more aware of its strength, and more cognizant of the goddess within who nurtures both my baby and myself. I make time for me because the impact of self-care is so clear with each twist and turn Baby makes within. The first trimester nausea, the stretch marks, the innumerable restless nights of hip pain, the swollen toes and fingers – I embrace it all and love it all because it serves as evidence that my being is growing a new life. As I anticipate falling in love with the new little boy in my life, I know how much I\’ll miss the movements he currently makes, the magical roll of my belly as he wiggles around, the regular pulse as he hiccups, and the hard spot that pokes up regularly under my right hand ribs as he stretches his feet. I\’ll miss the purpose my body now has, despite knowing that a new purpose awaits.
I\’ll miss the anticipation itself, of wondering who this little one will be, and yet so much more anticipation lies ahead. I\’m his mama. I have the honor and privilege to nurture him in the early weeks and guide him through life as he grows into his own identity. I\’ll have the beautiful memories of pregnancy behind me and the potential to make so many more memories in the years that lie ahead.
To Palimpsest 