Today I am 37 weeks pregnant, which starts the final count down to Birth-day… and may I just add that it’s hard to start a count down when the possibility of having Sweet Pea today is just as possible as having her five weeks from now. So we wait…
37 weeks… Wow! What an incredible long way we’ve come since that extra pink line appeared on the pregnancy test strip. I was in such awe at the concept of actually being pregnant that I took a test every day for a week and lined them all up next to each other on the bathroom counter just to be sure it was still true, but the line just got darker and more defined as each day went on, and somewhere inside myself I knew it was true.
33 weeks and 5 days later I have become quite large, and that little person I could feel only with my inner senses has made herself very prominent in my body, and quite obvious to the outside world. So prominent in fact I can hardly even remember what it was like to not be pregnant, to not have a huge belly full of squirmy littler person in front of me everywhere I go, to sleep all night without getting up to pee. I mean I used to run, Heck I used to walk, and now my fastest means of transportation is a nice slow waddle, and if I stretch the boundaries of my pre-pregnancy memory I can almost recollect a time when I could roll over in bed without getting beached half way through by the weight of my ever expanding abdomen, and Oh what a magical time that was!
Everyone goes on and on about how pregnancy is such a “special, magical, wonderful” time in a woman’s life… and it is… at least from the perspective of what your body is doing, what your body is making inside of you and how relatively short the time frame is when you think about all the cell replication and how quickly the final product is accomplished, but from the perspective of a sore, achy, tired, nauseated, squished bladdered, cumbersome, pregnant woman who can’t see anything between her belly button and her knees the experience doesn’t always exude “special, magical, wonderfulness”.
Do you know what the really “special, magical, wonderful” time in a woman’s life is? It’s the time she spends NOT pregnant. The time she spends before and after the birth of a child when her body is at its best leaving her physically able to do all she can do. When reaching for a dropped piece of paper is still a possibility, when trying to itch her shoulder doesn’t pull a muscle in her back, when she can enjoy the freedom of moving from one position to another without having to expertly devise and execute a plan of attack. Those were the days, and will hopefully “soon” continue to be the days, and I can’t imagine a moment more fulfilling than sitting with my husband and our new baby girl, her on the outside and me not-pregnant just enjoying being a family together, now I know it takes being pregnant to get to that picture, but I’d rather view the part of my life that is going to be the majority as “the most special time in my life” than try to falsely glorify the discomfort of pregnancy to unsuspecting hopeful mothers to be.
Being pregnant is a very Sepcial, Magical, Wonderful time in a woman’s life, but NOT being pregnant… is even better!
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