Disappointed. And yet still hopeful.

So here we are, at one day shy of 41 weeks and still pregnant.

Not that I don't love being pregnant (I really do!); I just REALLY want to see my little one face to face.  It's tough to explain how you can love a little person growing inside you so much without ever really meeting him/her, yet in pregnancy, it's what happens.  Both Raleigh and I love Little E so much already, and that love is compounded each and every day at what feels like an exponential rate.  And just like a gift that we know we'll get to open on one special day in the hopefully-not-too-distant future (and not a moment sooner), we are now waiting.

Waiting, waiting, and waiting.

Not just waiting for his/her arrival, but for ANY sign that he/she is actually coming!  I know things can change quickly (and thankfully so, or else all hope we'll get to meet our little one before spring might be lost by now!), however after hearing the doctor say today that I'm "behind" where most people are at this stage in the game (some cervical softening, but still no dilation), I haven't been able to feel much anything else other than disappointment and frustration.  I don't necessarily believe I'm doing anything wrong, but I am honestly unable to say that it feels like I'm doing anything right either.  I mean, how could/can I not be doing better so as to at least make sure that I'm physically progressing in some way that could support Little E in making his/her appearance when ready?  I know that a good percentage of first time moms deliver past their due date, however even by the doctor's admission, most of them are at least showing signs of moving towards labor and delivery.  Not me, though . . . I'm (at least per what the doctors can tell) as far away from that important benchmark as I was nearly 2 months ago.  In some ways, I'm feeling much like my dilation status--ZERO.

Although it may sound harsh and a bit dramatic, it almost feels like I'm hindering Little E's arrival somehow.  Physically I'm certainly not helping any, no matter how hard I try.  (Trust me, we've done it all--walking, walking, walking . . . pineapple, mango, spicy food . . . sex . . . visualization and verbal encouragement, positive affirmations . . . walking, walking, and more walking . . .)  And my lack of physical progress has also hindered the doctors from helping too (no stripping of the membranes with a closed cervix, I'm afraid), so it seems that I'm just "stuck" from every which end.

And emotionally--well, if this blog is any indicator--I'm just barely hanging in there.  I felt pretty good after leaving the doctor's office this noon, knowing that baby is still healthy and doing well (that is the important part, right?) and that under no uncertain terms can Little E stay in my belly forever . . . HOWEVER, as the afternoon has worn on and I've processed what he said . . . well, I can look at no one (or nothing) else as being responsible for my current condition (or lack thereof) and despite the words of consolation and/or encouragement from others, feel like I'm letting them down too.  My mom is hanging on to every text message or phone call as if it was my last (I picture her jumping onto her phone with each ring as a voracious tiger would leap on its next meal), and we're getting lots of friendly inquiries wondering how things are going and if baby has made his/her appearance yet.  "No," "Nothing yet," "Not a thing," and/or "Feeling fine and still no baby" have become regular components of nearly every conversation.  It's hard.  In some ways, I feel like the messenger of bad news to not only myself, my spouse, but also all our friends and family who are anxiously (and excitedly) awaiting the arrival of our little angel with us.  (Sigh)  I look forward to the moment when I can meet Little E face to face, bask in the joy of being a mother and (with Raleigh) family of three, and share the great news to all who care about and love us.

Until then, I keep praying for peace and the ability to truly (and I do mean truly) surrender to God's timing of it all.  In writing in my journal yesterday I realized that the conception of our little one was not according to our calendar, but His, and that just the same, I should remember (and trust) that His calendar still trumps ours (and for the right reasons too).  I mean, why should I now--of all times--suddenly be in complete control of a process that I've really only been privileged to experience because of His amazing grace and awesome love?  Why do I feel the need to take the reigns now, when we're just about to cross over onto a completely different journey and embark on an entirely new adventure?  He hasn't left us yet, and won't now . . . so why am I pushing for more autonomy?  Things might go a bit smoother if I take a step back and realize that maybe the reason I feel like I'm not in control of anything is because I'm not and remember that is a GOOD thing . . .

Ironic, huh?

Anyways, there it is.  I'm disappointed we're not "further along" and yet still hopeful that something will happen, sooner rather than later if possible.  And if not--well, it's not like I'm doing well pushing things in that direction, either.  I guess the Big One upstairs and our Little One inside are collaborating on just when exactly is the most perfect time to appear . . .

The Best and Worst Part

Recently one of my friends asked me what, in my experience, has been the best and worst part of pregnancy.

Thankfully, I don't have much to complain about.  I had maybe 2 days of morning sickness (related to being overtired, I think) and later on, the occasional woe of a swollen ankle or two.  I have experienced a sore back, difficulty picking things up from the floor and/or tying my shoes, running short of breath when doing, well, pretty much anything, and some laughable memory moments when I've forgotten my wedding date and/or where my phone is (in my hand at the time); however, those are for the most part (or so I've heard) to be expected.  None have been debilitating, and considering the low severity with which I've experienced all of them, I think I've been pretty lucky.

So, back to the question--what, in my opinion, has been the best and worst part of pregnancy?  After much thought and consideration, I feel very confident in one answer for both--how people have treated me.

On one hand, there is something so wonderful about being pregnant (especially once showing) to have such widespread concern for my comfort and safety.  Strangers offer up their seats on the bus/train, hold open doors, allow me to move to the front of the grocery line, and/or offer to carry pretty much anything heavier than my handbag.  It's awesome.  Ladies in particular seem to be more friendly, and start warm conversations about babies and baths and everything in between where there would otherwise be awkward, cold silence and/or an indifferent shrug to my presence.

From people who I know, I am regularly told how beautiful or "adorably pregnant" I look, and generous offers of help and support are abundant.  From house cleaning to laundry to (obviously) moving heavy furniture . . . I am not expected to just "figure it out" or do it on my own--I know there are dozens of hands and hearts that would jump in at a moment's notice.  Even knowing that Raleigh is at my side (and very much a dependable spouse in every which way), there has been an overwhelming invitation to make sure we have what we need, and/or at least know that we have folks to count on should we feel outside assistance would be helpful.

On the other hand, there are many (strangers and loved ones alike) who treat me like I'm completely incapable of doing anything other than standing, sitting, lying down, or breathing.  I know that at least for folks who love me, their motivation isn't malicious and their insistence on me not doing something (such as running a self-powered vacuum across the carpet) is more based on the fact that they want to be sure I remain safe and healthy, however it is annoying when so many seem to take my current state as an open invitation to comment on what I should (or should not) be doing and/or give their opinion as to how I should do things differently.

I am a perfectly smart, capable, and strong woman.  I am nearly 30 years old, have read (and continue to read) much, and am receiving proper prenatal care.  I too want a healthy, happy baby at the end of this pregnancy, and want to remain as comfortable as possible during this process.  I will not do anything stupid to jeopardize that and any comment or move that indicates otherwise feels like an insult, no matter how well-intentioned.

Same goes for the objectification I often feel; because I'm pregnant, many now see me as only a baby in a belly, completely unattached and separate from the rest of my person.  Instead of seeing me as woman who happens to be pregnant, the pregnancy is all some are able to see and in many ways, I've disappeared.  They greet my belly before saying hello to me, stare incessantly at the bulge beneath my shirt (yeah--as if that's appropriate at any other time), and make references to my child in a way that I believe they wouldn't dare do if he/she were on this side of my belly button.  The warm conversations I mentioned earlier often lead to awkward questions about my breastfeeding plans or the comfort/size of my breasts.  And maybe because I'm a first time mom (and must therefore not know ANYTHING about this process), I am regularly subjected to the comments of those who want me to know their opinion--about day care, our birth plan, my weight, parenting methods, etc.  Even the color we chose for the nursery has been scrutinized.  Nothing seems to be off-limits.

And the baby talk--ugh.  Don't even get me started there.  Let's just say that it doesn't impress and I am grateful our child will primarily learn how to speak from what they hear from Raleigh and I, not the many comments made their way in high-pitched half-sentences and incomprehensible babble directed their way now.

So, I guess that's it.  Maybe next time it will be different (because I'll have a little person in tow as proof that I haven't completely screwed up as a parent), and maybe it won't.  I guess that even if I get to deal with all this during pregnancy (the good and the less-than-great), the best, BEST part is still ahead and will be worth all that's brought us to this point--when we finally get to see the face of the little one we love so much, and hold him/her in our arms.

The Belly Button Blues

So since I'm not one to very much enjoy taking the popular "baby bump" photos so many other folks desire (you'll notice there aren't too many of my bulging belly out there), I thought perhaps it'd be good to chronicle my body's transformation another way, a more "creative" way . . . by belly button.

Below is a video slideshow of the change I have been privileged enough to experience from week 23 until now (week 38.5).  Don't expect a turkey baster type of pop-out (mine more or less just flattened) and be prepared for some incredibly gross stretch marks visible (and growing) starting at about 34 weeks.  They get really bad at about 36 weeks, which just adds a special perspective to the belly button shape at that point, which I think, looks a lot like the pucker from the Keystone bitter beer face man . . .