This is a P update for anyone who may be curious, so this is a sensitive post.
We’re T-44 days. I never thought I’d be one of those women. I watched in awe over the blogosphere as other women approached the second, third, and the end of the third trimesters. As they completed their nurseries and went from infertile to expectant mother to publishing a birth story. I never thought I’d be the one clocking in at 33 weeks and 5 days. Holy shit that’s far.
On one hand, it’s surreal. What? Me? Having a baby? It’s… “my turn?” (a phrase I detest). Where did the time even go? I spent half the pregnancy worried it wouldn’t happen, then months afraid I’d have a complication, and now I’m surrounded by mountains of packaged baby stuff I have to put away.
But on the other hand, I fear this may not be the totally life changing event I expect it to be. Everyone always says you’re never ready for a baby. Well, I am. We’re in our mid to late thirties, we have the money, we have the home, our careers are established, I’ve been waiting for years for this, we’ve been fantasizing for years about this. I don’t see myself as the glowing pregnant goddess, I see myself as big and bulky and in a lot of pain and grateful. I think when baby girl comes I might just transition into new mom mode like this was always meant to happen. Like on my wedding day, when I just felt like any other day except everyone was there to celebrate us and I looked like a princess, but it was a normal natural occurrence of events somehow. And after the wedding our relationship felt the same. (Which is a good thing!)
But then, I go right back to “OMG I’m one of those women!” One of the ones who are getting ready to bring home a baby, packing a hospital bag, folding onesies and putting them away.
I feel pulled away from the world of the infertile. I keep following the bloggers and Instagram-ers I care about and I stay in my favorite groups online but I don’t feel wanted or welcome, which I completely understand. But I silently spectate and throw my hopes into the ring every time.
But right now, it’s me and baby girl, who is estimated to be 4 lb 6 oz as of last week, who already has hair in her ultrasound, who has been ready to go in position for weeks, who really needs to wait out the next 6 weeks before she tries to get here because my house is a filthy wreck and her nursery isn’t finished. And her dad, who is working late every night to finish up projects so he can be home with her when she gets here. See you in 6 weeks baby girl.