It's pretty much the last haul towards the impending finishing line but I seem to recall reading somewhere in the haystack that if we humans are meant to be moving on fours instead of being upright, we would most likely to be incubating our young for - take this - ANOTHER further three months...
Which is still quite all right by me as I seem to - either fueled by complete "first timer's" blissful ignorance or a devil-may-care attitude - not be frazzled by the cartloads of stories from other mothers and a few none-mothers along the queue that:
(1) My life is going to "change forever";
(2) Things will never be the same again;
(3) Your breasts aren't your own anymore;
(4) You will be lucky to see the light of the day within a week of delivery;
(5) To pump or not to pump (there we go again, the breast talk); and
(6) so on and so forth... *yawn*
Seriously, I have to date:
(1) Spilled more tea over my new sweater than I cared to remember;
(2) Looked at passing windows of ice creams with the obsession of a possessed;
(3) Growled at lame jokes by electricians "are you over it yet?";
(4) Sprayed myself with soda water by accident (don't ask);
(5) Walked right into a spider's web; and
(6) so on and so forth... *yay!*
There are many - in fact, so much more - plus points in a pregnancy:
(1) Caring friends and families who, despite their diverse range of opinions and tastes, shower you with phone calls, emails, books, the odd beanie hat (can't believe how hard it was to track one down!) and pamphlets on cloth nappies, breastfeeding information for dads;
(2) Seeing how your hubby gets more protective over you and the bub "honey, I need to wipe the four doors of sledged dust" to cooking you his own brand of chicken curry - did anyone say nesting instinct?;
(3) Celebrating other friends' births;
(4) Hearing out other mothers who earned the right to taking a toddler to playgroups and their stories... real ones about the beauty of embracing a fantastic path of your continuing journey;
(5) Getting ready to soak in all the craziness grace of motherhood; and
(6) Secretly... I am looking forward to that odd, unexpected moment, probably at 3:30 in the morning when I rolled off my warm bed, eye-bags notwithstanding, to change my baby's nappy and the next feed...
Only to see that tiny little thing recognising me and giving me a toothless grin with those wildly swinging limbs.
Who cares if it's not time to play? Who cares if baby is going to cry due to exhaustion later? Who cares if we're not settling into a routine?
What matters is that I know, somehow miraculously, by a long line-honed realisation that nothing will come close to that sort of moment. I'm sure I will get my baby back to sleep and the little thing will not stay mad at me for too long, I am sure I can bond - bottle or breast - and I am sure that we're spending what used to be our dirty weekends away on today's nappies, I know I have to perfect the art of smelling out nappy by-products, I know I won't have all the answers.
But looking at my bump now, heck, I wonder how in my wildest dreams, did I get this lucky?
ps: Those kicks rock!
ps: Those kicks rock!
