Oh my God, we’re finally here – the home stretch!! (Not too much stretching, don’t want to distress Arthur!)
It’s incredibly hard to believe that the time is going so quickly. One by one, my bump buddies are counting down and each welcoming their little girl or boy into the world. We had one go this week, and three more to go in the next two months before I’m staring down my due date.
The only difference this week, really, is that I’m nursing a maybe-mild chest cold. I’ve had some breathing issues, which could be nothing more than Arthur expanding against my diaphragm, but some slight congestion drove me to a short round of OTC meds. (Brian is so cute – he picked up Robitussin from CVS and checked with the pharmacist before he left to make sure it was the safe kind!) Little by little it’s going back to “only” some deep breathing difficulty. So we’re fine; I just can’t belt along with Spotify when I’m cooking dinner.
More and more discussions are leaning toward the early days of parenthood – what we can expect of ourselves and those around us when we first come home from the hospital. I’ve been reading a LOT, and I’ve had some great examples to follow in the last couple of months. My biggest concern is having the space and freedom to really bond with Arthur in our home, to establish our routine and learn his, and then to welcome family and friends when we’re slightly more settled. I’ve had mini-daymares about being completely overwhelmed with unannounced drop-ins, too many cooks in the kitchen (metaphorically speaking – in reality, food is more likely to get you in the door), and so much advice from so many directions that our own instincts and research will be drowned out by the noise. I guess, when I get to the major point, my fear is that bringing him home will be the catalyst for finally losing all semblance of control in my life.
I don’t like feeling out of control, and that has been my only real problem with pregnancy in general. I can handle physical symptoms, even the least pleasant among them, but I’ve mentioned before what an emotional wreck I’ve become – and it really isn’t cute. My rational mind is struggling to push my emotions out of the way and say “Hey, I’m still here, let’s do some straight thinking!” but I feel like so much of my life is determined by outside forces (and people) at this point that I’m so looking forward to Arthur’s birth in part so I can look triumphantly around me and go “I am back in control.”
(Now is not the time to remind me that my dream is just a pipe dream…)
All I can do in the next 13 weeks is communicate my thoughts and our expectations as effectively as possible, and then hope that everything turns out alright.
Moving right along…
(Oh – and my glucose test was fine.)