New Beginnings
I have been meaning for some time to revive the blog. Get on a schedule. Give little updates. Create a journal to remember this time.
I'm just over 13 weeks pregnant. I'm entering my second trimester. Right now, the baby is the size of a peach, a small peach albeit. The nausea is subsiding. My pants are getting a bit snug. I have a stack of books I refer to daily. I read every week what is developing, how big the baby is, etc. I definitely love anything by Dr. Sears - I proudly announced one Saturday evening that I learned how to breastfeed. Then I proceeded to demonstrate the correct method, what to look for to know things are working correctly, various positions to try, etc. I suppose its like reading a book on how to ride a bicycle.
I like to push out my stomach and gauge where my feet are. I am on the cusp of a pregnant belly. Right now - it's still a belly. My bust looks as though I could feed sextuplets. I suppose that's been the biggest plus of the first trimester. That and I managed to grow long nails on one hand - just one hand and only on 4 fingers. I suppose both add a bit of femininity when I don't feel well; I gaze at my pretty nails when I can't lift my head off my desk. I think I'm beyond dreaming of that round stomach I see in the maternity ads. I am just proud of my body for intuitively knowing what the baby needs. My mother has told me that during birth and the early months or year, your body is not your own. You are a vessel. You are a feeding machine. A source of comfort. I suppose this process of letting my body take over and do its work is the beginning of it - and good preparation.
I share stories with my mother, and she encourages me to write these things down. C and I will like reading them years from now - as will our little one.
So, Herodotus. In an effort to refrain from saying "It", we've taken to calling the baby different names. We have our favorites based on anything from Greek historians to favorite bands to made-up names. Herodotus (5th century Greek historian). Little Yob (favorite band of C's with "Little" attached to denote a sort of fondness or cuteness). Castlehaven (who knows).
Work has been quite stressful lately. I feel as though I am slipping in my work, not staying on top of projects as I am used to. I consistently receive unsolicited reassurance that I am producing material at a rate and of a quality above and beyond what they had hoped. For myself, it doesn't always feel like enough. At the end of a 11+ hour day on the drive home, I just felt drained. And lonely. The feeling of swimming against the tide in a great vastness and making little progress. As I drove and let the tears flow, it occurred to me that I wasn't alone. It was remembering just in time you put something in the oven and didn't set the timer because you knew you'd remember. While I am always mindful of my pregnancy, I sometimes forget what that means. When that happens, I pat my belly and say, "Hi, baby. Mama's here".
I'm just over 13 weeks pregnant. I'm entering my second trimester. Right now, the baby is the size of a peach, a small peach albeit. The nausea is subsiding. My pants are getting a bit snug. I have a stack of books I refer to daily. I read every week what is developing, how big the baby is, etc. I definitely love anything by Dr. Sears - I proudly announced one Saturday evening that I learned how to breastfeed. Then I proceeded to demonstrate the correct method, what to look for to know things are working correctly, various positions to try, etc. I suppose its like reading a book on how to ride a bicycle.
I like to push out my stomach and gauge where my feet are. I am on the cusp of a pregnant belly. Right now - it's still a belly. My bust looks as though I could feed sextuplets. I suppose that's been the biggest plus of the first trimester. That and I managed to grow long nails on one hand - just one hand and only on 4 fingers. I suppose both add a bit of femininity when I don't feel well; I gaze at my pretty nails when I can't lift my head off my desk. I think I'm beyond dreaming of that round stomach I see in the maternity ads. I am just proud of my body for intuitively knowing what the baby needs. My mother has told me that during birth and the early months or year, your body is not your own. You are a vessel. You are a feeding machine. A source of comfort. I suppose this process of letting my body take over and do its work is the beginning of it - and good preparation.
I share stories with my mother, and she encourages me to write these things down. C and I will like reading them years from now - as will our little one.
So, Herodotus. In an effort to refrain from saying "It", we've taken to calling the baby different names. We have our favorites based on anything from Greek historians to favorite bands to made-up names. Herodotus (5th century Greek historian). Little Yob (favorite band of C's with "Little" attached to denote a sort of fondness or cuteness). Castlehaven (who knows).
Work has been quite stressful lately. I feel as though I am slipping in my work, not staying on top of projects as I am used to. I consistently receive unsolicited reassurance that I am producing material at a rate and of a quality above and beyond what they had hoped. For myself, it doesn't always feel like enough. At the end of a 11+ hour day on the drive home, I just felt drained. And lonely. The feeling of swimming against the tide in a great vastness and making little progress. As I drove and let the tears flow, it occurred to me that I wasn't alone. It was remembering just in time you put something in the oven and didn't set the timer because you knew you'd remember. While I am always mindful of my pregnancy, I sometimes forget what that means. When that happens, I pat my belly and say, "Hi, baby. Mama's here".
posted by Sady Jayne | 1:56 PM
1 Comments:
What a wonderful start in tracking this exciting time. I felt a tightness in my throat when you said, "Hi, baby. Mama's here." It will be your joy, privilege and responsibility to say that for the rest of Baby's life!! Although the need isn't urgent after 30 years, I still want to say - Momma's here.
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