We've gotten to the stage where the doctor has officially stated, "you could go at any time." Really, that is not a very nice thing to say to a pregnant woman who is about to burst at the seams. I recognize that the conversation was more of a "you could go at any time and be just fine from here on out," but honestly? I don't think he realizes the power of his words. That in my brain, even though we've done this before, I still take that to mean "any slightest little pain or cramp that you feel is the onset of labor so GET READY!
When I was pregnant with Christopher, I had three due dates. THREE. Another not-so-nice thing to do to a pregnant woman. So I never really knew when I was due, and with each date that came (and went) I could just dismiss the whole thing as the doctor being wrong with that little wheely thing that holds the power of the Almighty within it's little bracketed cardboard self based on the date of a period that (by the time you're actually in the doctor's office) you already have missed for 2 months. By the time the third date had passed, I was so busy feeling HUGE (a trend throughout the entirety of that pregnancy, actually) that I didn't really notice any other pre-labor symptoms.
This time has been entirely different. I've felt so good throughout the entire pregnancy that, in a way, I feel like it's just about time that I started to complain. Not that I'm complaining for no reason, of course. All of a sudden, I'm HEAVY. And SORE. And GRUMPY. And....well....DONE WITH THIS WHOLE ENTIRE GROWING A PERSON INSIDE MY BODY thing. Okay?
Over the past few days, since the "you could go anytime" declaration, I feel like my body is preparing itself to hunker down and get this baby out. Deep within me is this draw to sleeping and storing up my energy for the marathon that is childbirth. I feel very connected to nature - like I'm really a part of the Circle of Life. (Good grief, I just had this image of Elton John singing in my delivery room. No further comment is necessary.) But, seriously, yesterday I had this image of myself as a dog getting ready to have her puppies - sleeping a lot. Panting a lot. Just ready to get down to it and PUSH!
The irony here lies in the fact that I'm having a planned, scheduled c-section. There will be no labor (even if the baby comes early, there will only be labor to the extent that it takes 20 minutes to drive to the hospital). There will be no panting. There will be no pushing to the count of ten. What there will be are drugs. Lots and lots of drugs. And four nights in the hospital getting used to having this new little person with me, while missing my bigger little person who will be at home being spoiled rotten by his grandmother.
I feel like I'm cheating the system. Like I'm TiVo-ing my childbirth ahead of time so that I can fast-forward to the joyful part. And, really? I'm okay with that.
When I was pregnant with Christopher, I had three due dates. THREE. Another not-so-nice thing to do to a pregnant woman. So I never really knew when I was due, and with each date that came (and went) I could just dismiss the whole thing as the doctor being wrong with that little wheely thing that holds the power of the Almighty within it's little bracketed cardboard self based on the date of a period that (by the time you're actually in the doctor's office) you already have missed for 2 months. By the time the third date had passed, I was so busy feeling HUGE (a trend throughout the entirety of that pregnancy, actually) that I didn't really notice any other pre-labor symptoms.
This time has been entirely different. I've felt so good throughout the entire pregnancy that, in a way, I feel like it's just about time that I started to complain. Not that I'm complaining for no reason, of course. All of a sudden, I'm HEAVY. And SORE. And GRUMPY. And....well....DONE WITH THIS WHOLE ENTIRE GROWING A PERSON INSIDE MY BODY thing. Okay?
Over the past few days, since the "you could go anytime" declaration, I feel like my body is preparing itself to hunker down and get this baby out. Deep within me is this draw to sleeping and storing up my energy for the marathon that is childbirth. I feel very connected to nature - like I'm really a part of the Circle of Life. (Good grief, I just had this image of Elton John singing in my delivery room. No further comment is necessary.) But, seriously, yesterday I had this image of myself as a dog getting ready to have her puppies - sleeping a lot. Panting a lot. Just ready to get down to it and PUSH!
The irony here lies in the fact that I'm having a planned, scheduled c-section. There will be no labor (even if the baby comes early, there will only be labor to the extent that it takes 20 minutes to drive to the hospital). There will be no panting. There will be no pushing to the count of ten. What there will be are drugs. Lots and lots of drugs. And four nights in the hospital getting used to having this new little person with me, while missing my bigger little person who will be at home being spoiled rotten by his grandmother.
I feel like I'm cheating the system. Like I'm TiVo-ing my childbirth ahead of time so that I can fast-forward to the joyful part. And, really? I'm okay with that.
1 comment:
I very much enjoy your analogy of TiVo-ing your childbirth =)
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