There Ain't No Bugs on Me

Twenty three weeks pregnant. The books say I have seventeen weeks left. Next week is the six month mark. I have to say… I love every minute of it. Everything is fabulous. It's like your birthday every day the way people fawn over you—and I would know since I turned 29 just last week. People give up their seats on the train, their place in the bathroom line etc… OK, maybe that doesn't happen every day, but being pregnant makes you feel pretty awesome. The admiration from other people—even complete strangers—is something I wasn’t expecting.

I’m trying so desperately to keep myself from complaining about anything that ails me. I’ve had such an easy time with it, and I feel nothing but grateful for that. I try not complain very often about my aching back or the constant throbbing pain in my left hip. Not even the scale… it’s been pretty kind to me.

It is starting to sink in how quickly this is all going. I keep joking that the baby can stay in there as long as it wants to. But in all honesty, I’m not kidding. It can stay right there, where I know it is safe, warm and protected. Our due date is February 10th. I’ve been getting in the habit of telling people “early February.” I don’t want my baby thinking anything other than it can come when it is good and ready.

I always knew that I wanted a family. I just didn’t really think about how families are actually created and that I would be responsible for making it happen. I just pictured family holidays with all of the craziness. Birthday parties with lots of presents, excitement and laughter. Most of all, I couldn’t wait to live my childhood all over again, vicariously through my children.

Recently, B and I were talking about what it would be like. The dreaded phrase, “I want to give them everything that I never had” came out. Truthfully, I want to give them everything that my parents gave me, because it was a lot.

There is a lot of gravity in that statement. I loved my childhood. It was fun, frolicky and most of all, sheltered. I didn’t have much exposure to what the real world was like. I had to figure that out as I went along. Traveling did that for me. But honestly, living in a household that wore rose-colored glasses was a gift more than anything else. I came out of it loving others and wanting to give back—to a fault at times. My giving heart has certainly got the best of me at times. I didn’t realize how much people take advantage. Again, you live and you learn.

Sure, there may be things I would change: Communication for example. I want them to come to me with every worst case scenario and not be afraid to be judged or punished. I’m not sure how that works, but I’m going to have to find that out as I go along.

At this point, I’m just enjoying this part of the journey. We are right in between the actuality of a family being created and the make-believe one in our imaginations. It isn’t quite here yet… but we are close.

Baby Lane at 21 weeks.  Note the extended foot?  Yes, this peanut likes to kick.

I can feel the baby moving every day. I thought it may be a sensation that would frighten me, but no. It’s soothing and comforting. It makes me understand that I have a purpose. There is a tiny being hanging onto my every word and every breath. Everything I feel emotionally, the foods I eat and the music I listen to… The baby experiences it all with me. That has certainly changed things for me. I feel myself becoming a different person. I am thinking about things that have never crossed my mind before. I know understand how people become passionate about a cause. I now know what the true meaning of the word “empowerment” is. I’m at a crossroads in my life. I’ve never felt so ready or so educated about my health and my body. Hold that thought… to be continued.

At night when I get home on the couch, I take out my Nuvo belt and we listen to music. I explain softly what it is and then I wait to feel the baby’s response. Most times, we listen to a little Jerry Garcia singing “There Ain’t No Bugs on Me.” The craziest part is that the baby actually responds to the music. As soon as it is over, there is a big pause and he (we say he, though we truly don’t know either way) will nudge me as if to keep the music playing.

We noticed recently that B can feel the kicking, too. As soon as I feel any movements, I tell him to stop what he is doing and put his hands on me. It’s funny because he doesn’t usually feel anything. As soon as the baby hears his voice or feels the weight of his hands on me, he stops. At first B was offended. We soon figured out, the baby likes his voice and touch. It becomes mesmerized and stays very still. So now, it’s like a covert operation. The baby moves and B tiptoes over to me and ever so lightly touches my skin. We’ve had a few good shots the past couple of nights… like 3 AM… having a belly / baby kickboxing party in our bed kind of nights.

I wouldn’t trade one moment of any of this. It’s complete bliss. And I finally feel like I’m going to make a difference. I’m going to raise an amazing person who will know all of the things I’ve figured out. And listen to lots of Jerry Garcia along the way.