I've been super remiss about blogging and so much has happened.
I'm pregnant. We left Germany and stayed in NY for a few months. We have now relocated to Los Angeles and I'm one day from being 28 weeks along (or 7 months). We're having a little girl and she is a fierce little kicker. My brain has been occupied with so many hopes, worries, excitement and concern. Past few months have been some of the strangest of my life.
What's pregnancy like? Well, it's weird. For me at least. Physically it's been a series of adjustments and I can't say as I've liked them all. Having someone else occupy my literal body space has, I won't lie, been challenging emotionally sometimes. My shape has become distorted, that's what pregnancy does, so there are days when I feel huge and strange and not quite myself. I'm not a slim pregnant woman, I'm plump and round and that's just how it is. Accepting that is a daily process, but I wouldn't change any of it. And I think pregnant women should be able to say they don't love every second of this without being shamed. By anyone. We should be able to talk about the reality of it without censure, without anyone acting like it means we don't really want our growing babies or motherhood.
But I'm proud to say that my baby is growing, according to every doc, "perfectly", and that whatever else goes on in my head, there's never been a question of her getting what she needs. I eat well, for some reason cantaloupe and grapes have loomed large, and I do my best to treat myself kindly and gently. Which is a little challenging, honestly. I'm used to being able to push myself harder. These days if I need a nap, I take it.
Pregnancy is such a personal thing, such a vulnerable state, and to a degree, isolating, My husband is amazing and has been the most supportive rock you can imagine. But he can't really understand what this feels like or share in it. "We" are not pregnant, and bless him, he thinks that entire idea is ridiculous. Now that the baby's kicks are more substantial (it's like some tiny game of ping pong in there sometimes) he can at least feel some of it. But he can't know what it's like to have someone pressing on his lungs from the inside, or turning over with hard little elbows, or poking him in the bladder. His stomach doesn't move when she turns over or presses on a nerve I feel in my teeth and scalp.
And now we're in Los Angeles where I get to, hopefully, raise my daughter around water and art and warmth. We've move into our new apartment next week, I start on a bunch of a new projects tomorrow, and finally get into birthing classes and making hospital plans. It's terrifying to think about, really.
There are so many things I want for this kid, but what I'm looking forward to most is meeting her. I want to get to know the person who has been kicking me and poking me and whose sweet little profile charmed us both in the ultrasound.
I'll worry about the everything else as it comes.