takin my time

Many people have been asking me of late whether I am ready to be done with this pregnancy, and I am often at a loss as to how to answer. In one sense, yes, I am ready. Ready to meet this little baby, to know the gender, to assign a name, to study the eyes and nose, fingers and toes. I am anxious to know my child further. And the menstrual-like feelings and the constant pressure are making me feel more "done" than I ever did with my daughter. So sure, I'm ready.

But then again, I have things to do before my days become filled with exhausted feedings and changings. I still need to finish my sub plans for the person who will take over my classroom. I haven't yet packed my hospital bag. We have things to get for Pink. And in that sense, it would be nice to have a little bit more time, and the October 21 due date sounds great.

However, there is a deeper sense of preparedness that struck me as I spoke with a friend the other day. I'm not quite ready to be done with something that passes so fleetingly. Now, this pregnancy hasn't been easy. I've had plenty of "easy" times, but the morning sickness, fatigue, a sinus infection early on, and six weeks of being sick with multiple illnesses (from 29 to 35 weeks) was not exactly fun. Beloved has done much more to support me this time around than he needed to do last time. And Pink carried the burden every day of trying to make mommy happy, a truth that was hard for me to digest.

Yet, how much of my life will I spend pregnant? I have only been pregnant (with a viable pregnancy, at least) for 18 months; is this not a passing phase that will end before I know it? And so, sickness or not, 105 temperatures outside or not, fatigue or not, I feel nostalgic about this pregnancy already, and it's not even over yet. I don't have any idea if I'll be pregnant again, but I do know that I won't be pregnant with this little baby again. There are ups and downs in pregnancy, but the collection of these ups and downs is what makes this time to precious and unique. And so appealing to me, at least deep down.

I'm not a big fan of "terrible two" behavior, either. But the joys involved in that age are priceless gems that I hope to remember for the rest of my life. I fall more in love with my daughter every day, even as she drives me crazy. And it passes so very quickly. Being a tad bit sentimental helps when it comes to savoring every moment of life, I admit. But I believe that if we could all stop to look around us a little bit more, stop to take deep breaths, stop to make a genuine inquiry of a friend's well-being, stop to savor the flavors of each stage of life -- the transitions between stages wouldn't cause us to hang on for dear life, but to embrace the change and the new stage.

This pregnancy's end-date is known only to God. For now, I savor the soreness, the belly that gets wet every time I stand near the sink, the stretch marks that I couldn't prevent, the hormones that take control over my emotions at times, and each little kick/punch/stretch/hiccup from my sweet baby. This, too, shall pass. And I don't intend to miss it.

Am I ready? Not quite. But I will be good and ready when it's time to be ready.

And I admit that there's a slight chance the hormones are making me a bit extra sentimental. Perhaps the reason for a sappy post. Just maybe.