Let me start by saying I wrote this in two parts. I started it in July when I was 24 weeks along. I held off on posting it because I wanted to see how things would progress and I was wary of appearing as though I’m “bragging” on my pregnancy. But after so many conversations regarding the negativity surrounding pregnancy, I decided to share my experience. Because I know that short of my son becoming a serial killer, nothing can take away the past 37 weeks.
Also, I have been incredibly fortunate to have had an easygoing pregnancy. I absolutely understand this is not the case for everyone and many people have a very difficult time. I send love and light to all of you growing your family, however that may be.
For the past 33 years, I’ve been lied to. Duped. Had. Fooled.
As most of you know, Jay and I are expecting Baby Boy Koman at the end of October. I never understood why people would tell you they are over the moon, but reader, we are absolutely over the moon.
I always knew I wanted to be a mother, but I’ve always DREADED the idea of pregnancy. Getting fat. Destroyed vagina. Hideous stretch marks. Hormonal cranky mess. These are the images that pregnancy conjured up for me. I used to joke that if we could afford it, I’d get a surrogate in a heartbeat (or wait until science figured out how Jay could gestate the baby).
Y’all, the past 9 months couldn’t be further from what I had imagined.
At times, I felt strong. And powerful. I ran a 10-miler. I squatted a bajilion pounds. I beat people in flywheel sprints (while still coming in a respectable top 10 in the class). I became more connected with myself, both mentally and physically.
My and Jay’s relationship has grown stronger. I have loved watching him be excited, supportive, scared and build nursery furniture. This time has been a wonderful reminder of why we chose each other. We shockingly loved our 3-hour weekly Hypnobabies dates. We have managed to keep our cool, save for some occasional snapping which is usually fixed by eating (you guys know that food fixes everything in this house). My hormones have shockingly been more in check than when I’m not pregnant.
Yes, things are sometimes uncomfortable. My tailbone quit around week 12. My digestive system is a mess. Around 33 weeks, my body decided it was no longer meant for spin bikes (I am nowhere nearly as active as I was as when I wrote that earlier 10 miler/flywheel/squat BS paragraph a few months ago – how annoying is that person???). Yesterday, I thought my skin was going to stretch off my body. Random nerve pain. Back pain. Sciatica. Lightning crotch.It’s all happening. He’s been super chill in utero which caused SO. MUCH. WORRY. I am QUITE anxious about what baby’s arrival will do to my semester. And I’m concerned that I’ve underestimated the pain of actually pushing this person out of me.
What I’m saying is that like anything else in life, nothing is perfect. I am full of discomfort and worry and aches and fear of the unknown. Not to mention, I’m bringing a Black and Jewish child into 45’s America….we’ll save that for another day.
But goddammit, I am SO excited. Every time this kiddo pokes his butt through my belly (he get it from his mama?) or stretches his legs or shake his big ol’ head, I am filled with delightful anticipation of what’s to come. I wonder who he’ll be, what he’ll look like, what we will teach each other. Will he have his parents’ annoying extraversion or will he keep more to himself? Jay’s gnarly feet or my perfect toes? Armstrong neuroses or the Koman varietal??? These thoughts subdue my angst and my cold heart thaws a bit more.
Monday, October 2nd marked week 37 aka Baby K is officially full term, which is surreal. Reproducing is the most basic thing you can do as a being, yet there is still something so magical about it. I know I will miss this feeling. I sometimes think about the hollowness that will exist afterwards. And then I remember all of the love that has already flowed into this child, that I hope he’s able to give back to the world around him. It reminds me: why worry about feeling empty, when my heart is already so full?
(Because life is full of irony, the day I posted this, I found out Baby K decided to flip himself into a breech position. When he arrives, he’s immediately grounded.)