Pregnancy is not what I thought it would be. Granted, I didn’t know that much. For someone who spent years worrying I was getting too old to become pregnant, I surely didn’t know enough about the whole thing. 33 weeks in, I still feel clueless. I see all these first-time moms nailing everything, having beautiful baby showers, pregnancy photo shoots, belly casts, reading all the books, mastering all the classes, designing amazing nurseries that look like they should be in a home improvement catalog.
Then there’s me, learning bits and pieces as I go, pretty much spending this pregnancy on my own, having bought zero items and prepped zero maternity bags. I’m here struggling to wash the dishes because the belly gets in the way, carrying my laundry downstairs inside a cooler because it has wheels and I can no longer carry the laundry basket in my arms. I’m here calculating how many grocery bags I can bring home and how I can wear the seatbelt in a more comfortable way. I’m here struggling to breathe at night and trying to rest while my back hurts in ways I never knew it could.
Sometimes, I feel so alone I can only hear my own voice echoing these questions. Will I know what to do? Will I know how to be a mother? Should I trust my instinct?
I’ve got 7 weeks left to figure this out. To fix a nursery for my little baby, to learn the ins and outs of newborns, to be confident that I will know what to do once the momma instinct kicks in.
The best advice I was given was to trust my body and my baby. I suspect deep inside every first-time mom feels a little bit like this: overwhelmed by the responsibility and the incredible changes that happen to our bodies and minds. I believe I will know once this baby is in front of me, in all of his splendor. 33 weeks pregnant and I’m still in awe of my own body, the way that it is creating human life. I still stare at my belly in a trance to watch it ripple as my baby stretches and moves inside of me. I talk to him inside my mind, almost expecting him to telepathically understand his mother.
Even as I suffer from physical and emotional exhaustion, wishing I was home surrounded by my family’s love and comforting embrace, I feel like everything is worth it for this little person in my belly. I may have left people down in my life. I may have let myself down on many occasions. But I will make sure I am the best for this son of mine. I believe it’s called purpose. Not that I didn’t have one before, I did.
A baby just changes everything. Keep kicking my ribs, little one ❤️