Bulging and Beautiful???

So I was talking with a friend recently about how much like a heifer I feel. She had great insight to share. There is this window of pregnancy when you just look so cute! You are that really cute pregnant lady and people can't get enough of how cute you look. Before that time is the awkward transition time when you know you are pregnant (hello?!?!? I never had a pooch like this before! It is so obvious that I am pregnant!) but no one else is brave enough to ask you. This is probably for the best. Because I would hate to be that woman who was asked if she was and she wasn't! 

Then you enter the blessed window of beautiful bulging belly. You are the cutest preggo lady! Everything you wear is super cute! You are glowing, you feel great, the baby is moving. Life is great!

But that is just a period. A good long period, but a period nonetheless. And as you get closer and closer to that much anticipated due date you leave that wonderful period and enter the world of cows. Yup! Bovine. That is what you begin to feel like. When getting in and out of cars is a struggle. When bending down to pick something you dropped is a chore. When you can NOT find anything to wear that is both comfortable and cute. So you have to make a choice: comfort or fashion. And if your midwife tells you that your baby is breach and it is better to not wear maternity pants to encourage him/her to flip then all that is left to you are dresses that used to look cute on you, but now just look like muumuus on you. And that is where I am right now. And I feel ugly.

I hate to complain. I mean, I tried for a long time to get pregnant, doubting my bodies ability to even be able to conceive. What right do I have to complain? I should be rejoicing at the wonderful miracle that my body is doing something I doubted it was even capable of. But I am still a woman. Still trained to judge myself by exterior beauty, even by my hippie, care-free standard of beauty. There it is- I am a product of this society that places way more value on outward appearance than inner strength.

So what is a girl to do? I don't know. I've never been here before. And not many have shared this experience with me, so I am wondering if I am just bigger than most women get when pregnant? I mean, I am a small frame, and my belly is something to marvel at. I suspect people are wondering at the physics of how it is I am able to actually stand with this ginormous belly! Still something must be done. Because I need to remind myself that I am beautiful. That what is happening in my body is beautiful and marvelous because I do not want to spend the last few weeks of this pregnancy bitter, but rather I want to relish in it, because who knows if I will ever be here again.

And so I found myself putting on eye liner these last two days. And making myself get dressed in the nicest outfit I can put together, even though I am on maternity leave and rarely leave the house. But I do this because when I walk into the bedroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, it makes me feel better. And better is much preferred over bitter.

And one last thing that I have done, I asked my partner in crime to take pictures of me so that I can remember this time. This amazing and special time.

I know that this is no Demi Moore or Brittany Spears level of beauty.

But it ain't no cow either. 

It is a miracle. A beautiful miracle. 

I am a beautiful miracle.

I Hate Finishing Books

Confession, I have purposely not finished reading a book series that I love because I hate it when books end. I have all the books in the series, and my husband has read them all and said that it was a good end to the series. But the fact that it is the end is enough to keep me from reading it... for 3 years!

I do this with allot of things. Like TV shows. I will watch nearly an entire TV series and when I get near the end will suddenly feel compelled to find some other show to watch. It will literally take me months and months to finish watching the last 3 episodes of a series. I just hate endings. I get so sad. Like I am saying goodbye to a dear friendship that I don't want to end. And while I know that all things on this earth have an end, I like to live in willful ignorance and ignore that fundamental detail.

Here I am at the end of this pregnancy, and I am sad. Isn't it funny? Most women are eager for their little one to come out, to be born, to give their bodies relief and to finally meet the beautiful baby. Don't get me wrong. I really do want to meet my precious Little, but I have enjoyed this pregnancy.

A friend recently asked me how this pregnancy has been treating me? Have I liked being pregnant? No one had ever asked me that in the 36 weeks I was pregnant. I needed a moment to reflect on this. I think I came up with a simple short answer for her, but later that I night I really thought about that question. And my answer is that I have LOVED being pregnant. My body has changed in so many ways, and it has had its challenges, but for the most part this has been a beautiful experience! I know that I am lucky, that things could have been much worse. That I was graciously spared the dreaded morning sickness. But I was spared of it and of so many other challenges. I am so blessed to have had such a wonderful time. I love feeling the little one inside me move, and how the movements have changed as the space inside has changed. I love having a beautiful big belly. I love how people are compelled to reach out and touch it. And I love how I make people laugh with my disproportionate belly size.

Today is my birthday, it is the last one that I will ever have where I can be selfish and make it all about me. It is, in a sense, an end, which makes me sad. Also, this week I am considered to be full-term. Another end. Another pang of sadness. I want to meet my baby, but I don't want this beautiful experience to end. If I am blessed to have another child, I know that I can look forward to this experience again, but it will be different. My husband and I were talking about this. This is the first time for us. It is full of first time surprises and joys. Next time there will be joy, certainly, but it will not be like the first time. It will be different.

So here I am, at the end of several things, trying to relish and savor the last of them, especially since in this situation I cannot simply ignore the event and spread it out over several months. The end is coming, no avoiding it, and with it a new beginning full of new joys I am sure. But an ending is still and ending, and my sentimental self is sad to loose such sweet a friend.

Brutal/Beautiful Holidays

Every year my church has a Living Nativity for the community to enjoy. It is really a beautiful event. There are sheep and a donkey, high schoolers dressed as angels and shepherds, elders dressed as the wise men. It is a bonding time for the church family, and a blessing to be able to share the wonder of the season with the neighborhood.

Last year (December 2011) my husband and I were asked to play Mary and Joseph. The Living Nativity had a twist that year in that Mary sang a song, and the shepherds also sang a song. The song I sang was the Magnificat, the prayer and praise Mary says in response to learning that she was chosen to be the mother of God. It is a beautiful prayer and one that shows the wisdom held deep within this young woman. 

So there I am holding a baby doll, sometimes I was handed a real baby to hold when one was available, but holding a baby and looking down at it in the iconic pose. And the whole time I held back tears, wondering if I would ever be blessed to hold my own baby. At that time I had been trying to conceive for about 6 months with no luck. And I was waffling between hope and despair. Trying to keep my focus on the miracle of the birth of my god, I struggled not to dwell on my own trials. I remember seeing a family come up and approach me, and they had a toddler with down syndrome, and my heart ached to see how much love that family poured on that cute little boy. I was jealous for that. For the opportunity to pour out love, no matter the circumstances. Yes, he had down syndrome, but it didn't matter because he was their baby, and I wanted that... a baby. It was all I could do to keep it together. 

On our way home, Jonathan told me that he could tell I was having a hard time. He reached for my hand and told me that we would be okay, that we would have a family one day. He was so confident and calm about it. I couldn't argue with him. The Holidays are brutal for a woman TTC!

Fast forward a year to December 2012. My husband and I were asked to be in the Christmas Musical at church. Guess who we were asked to play??? That's right, Mary and Joseph. In the musical, Mary sings a song about the hope of the world growing within her womb. It was perfect, because my own womb was growing and my own hope was and is being fulfilled within. 

Yes, I was holding another doll, but that bump under the doll is real. And this time I fought to hold back tears, but tears of gratitude and tears of joy. A year ago I had nearly thrown the towel in, tired of trying to do something that so many do accidentally. I never would have guessed that in a year's time I would be so close to realizing my dream of being able to pour out love on my own baby. Yes, tears of joy and excitement were indeed in order! The Holidays to a woman who has struggled with TTC can be overwhelmingly beautiful. So so beautiful.

To a Young and Hopeful Me

The story behind this shirt: When I was in high school my aunt handed me this shirt, knowing that I love all things Maya and traditional (proud of my Maya roots, just like her :).  She said that she didn't fit in the shirt and that she wanted me to have it until the day she could. At the time, I also couldn't fit in it. Too big. But I thought it was too beautiful to give back. I also thought that if I was ever pregnant this shirt would fit. Fast forward 15 years- this is the first time I am wearing this shirt.

That day I couldn't help but reflect on the naive and innocent thoughts of a freshman in high school. How simple it all seemed to me then. How little I new about the trials that would lay ahead. And yet, how beautiful to see the world with such assured hope. 

To that freshman I would like to say, "Well, we did it. We are wearing that shirt that you faithfully kept year after year anticipating the moment when your belly would be full of baby to fill it out. The path here took longer than expected, but I can't thank you enough for planting that seed of hope. At times, that seed was my rock. Thank you naive, and innocent me. Wearing this shirt was a triumphant day for us! Yes, it was!"

PS: The bananas are for a project my husband and I are working on. This was the only picture I could find that showed the front of the shirt. 

Target, Babies R Us, or..

I debated whether I should have posted this now or not, or even at all. But since I have no filter, or a very tiny one, I decided to just go with it.

You know when you get married there are the staple places that people register at: Target, Bed Bath and Beyond, Macy's, and occasionally Pottery Barn. The same thing is true for baby registries, only the list is much smaller: Target, BabiesRUs. That's it.

It is a frustration of mine that these two stores have the monopoly on this market. I decided to go with Babies R Us just because I thought that it might have more things than Target. I have no idea what I based that on. No real research was done before coming to that conclusion. Maybe it is just that the baby section of Target is a only a few aisles, while Babies R Us is an entire store building. Who knows. But upon my very first visit to Babies R Us for my own baby I was disappointed. Deep down I knew I would be, but I still had hope, naive though it was. Walking around that store, my baby daddy and I were nearly immobilized by the overwhelming number of "stuff" for a baby. The sheer quantity is daunting and immediately makes one question their ability to parent. "There is no way I can afford all this stuff! How can I ever be a good parent to this baby???" We certainly had a little spat while in the store. I wonder how many times a day that occurs- hormonal mom, irritated father trapped in an obnoxious store. And when we left, my husband was so grumpy; he just couldn't get over the audacity of the registry attendant telling us what we absolutely needed, and that we didn't have enough stuff on our registy. Sigh.

In the end I added only another 10 items to our registry. That is all I wanted. From there. There are other stores that I wanted stuff from, and I decided that I was going to take the gamble and register at those smaller, less known stores. Because they actually have the kind of things I am looking for. Remember me, the granola mama. Cloth diapers are definitely on the list. Baby wearing-check. Organic materials-check. And they have an online option, so people could just order the stuff online and avoid having to drive to Anaheim. So convenient, right? Not to mention that it is the exact stuff that I really want, which they do NOT carry at Babies R Us. Yup, convenient and useful, right?

I thought so anyway. But I am starting to fear that the only store I will get gifts from is Babies R Us. That damn store! Even when I try to limit my exposure to you, it seems that I cannot escape you. I haven't had my baby shower yet, so who knows, I may be pleasantly surprised. But I am not hopeful. It was a gamble registering at Babies R Us, a gamble that no one would even visit the online registries for the other stores. But when you play with fire, you should expect to get burned.

Yes, I totally compared Babies R Us to fire. Did I mention that I am hormonal??? So here's to me learning, yet again, to trust in the Great Designer, that all I need will be provided for, and to let go of that silly illusion of control.

Really?!?!?

So there are a few things I expected to eventually hear when I found out we were pregnant. They are as follows:

1.) Your belly is so big/cute.
2.) You look great!
3.) I can tell you are having a boy/girl just by the way you are carrying the baby.

So far, I have heard all of these, and I welcome these comments of excitement with open arms.

But then there are the things I never never NEVER anticipated people would say to me. They are as follows:

4.) Wow! You are so big! Are you sure there is only one baby in there???
5.) Your butt has definitely gotten bigger.
6.) So, whose the father?

Just kidding about the last one. No one has ever said #6 to me (yet) but the other two...yup, and on more than one occasion. Admittedly, I do look big, but I would never have the guts to tell a woman that she looks so big she must be having multiple babies. In the wise words of Stephanie Tanner, "How rude". And this comment (#4) is made to me at least once every few weeks. In fact my mother-in-law started making these comments to me as early as 14 weeks. Thankfully my midwife says that my uterus is measuring at the normal size, so really I am not that BIG, but I just carry the baby differently, i.e. sticking way out.

And the comments about my butt?!?!? Really?!?!? Even though I am pregnant, I am still a woman people. Think to yourself, is this the kind of comment a woman would appreciate. Or better yet, ask yourself, "Would I like someone to tell me that by butt looks bigger?" then decide not to ask the question. Sheesh!

In summary, keep comments 1-3 coming. Me love those! And the rest, those are the ones you say in your head but never to a mom-to-be.

FYI :)

Due Dates

The two most frequent questions I have been asked since people found out I was pregnant are:
1. What are you having?
2. When are you due?

The answer to the first question is "I don't know. We want to be surprised?" and I explained my reasoning here. But the second question is a bit more tricky. Because, you see, I do have a date that, according to the date-wheel-thingy and my doctor, says when this baby is due. Also there are websites where you can enter the first day of your last cycle, and/or your conception date if you know that and it will spit out a due date. Oh! And even my midwife uses an app to predict my due date based on my cycle history, date of my last cycle, and date of conception. So there is a science behind all this. I can with reasonable assuredness answer that second question with, "Little is due February 3rd". But that due date is more of a suggestion.

This baby can come whenever it wants to come. Some babies come early, up to a few weeks early is considered full term and safe for delivery. Some babies come late, up to a few weeks late even. So with a few weeks before and a few weeks after, there is at least a 6 week window when this baby can come safely. I hesitate to hold fast to February 3rd because first time moms tend to go past their due date. Also, I don't want to get too set on February 3rd because I am afraid it might cause me anxiety if that day comes and goes and nothing has happened. And finally, this is a great exercise in learning to release that tiny planner in me that likes to control all things, and to surrender to nature, to my body, and to trust in the design built into my body more than in calculations and formulas.

I have heard that in times past, before these fancy due-date-wheely-things were created, women would answer the question like this: "The baby is due sometime in early spring/late fall/mid-summer/etc". This was as specific as they could get. There is something quaint and romantic about this. I envision women during the late 1800s, think Anne of Avonlea, in long dresses with lace, and their hair up in intricate buns that I can only dream of doing myself, well... like this

And as they gather for their tea to gossip, chit chat, and bond (as women have done since the beginning of time, I'm sure), the topic comes up, "So Susanne, I hear you have some news to share" 

"Well, indeed I do! I am happy to tell you that come late winter Jonathan and I expect the arrival of a little one!"... yup, that just sounds so right to me. That is the way to do it, at least to an old soul like mine. 

But, today, that answer just doesn't work for people. So when people ask me when the baby is due, on the outside I am saying "Early February" but on the inside I am saying "Late winter".  :)