Posts
Sunday, December 16
katy claire
In my opinion, any expectant woman who tells you that pregnancy is a beautiful, glowing experience is just trying to convince themselves not to blast through their last sliver of psychological veneer and drive their minivan through the L&D ward screaming TAKE IT OUT NOW.
Admittedly, if this blog had started 12 years ago, you would have already read full-blown descriptions of my laughable attempts to bring children on to this planet. The first one ended in a 2 pound, 9 oz baby boy at 30 weeks, with me having an emergency c-section while in a coma on life support. The second boy stayed in till 35 weeks, when my water broke because — according to my doctor —my body seems to treat my babies "as foreign allergens that it needs to protect you against." Funny how on some days I still feel that way about them.
This time we're waiting on our first little girl, Katy Claire Adkins. And while I'd like to say that this pregnancy experience has been night and day, totally different, and oh-so-much better, I consider myself a truthful person. And the truth is, being pregnant sucks.
You can't do what you want. You can't eat what you want. You can't wear what you want. You can't sleep on your stomach, you can't sleep on your back, you can't sleep at all. You can't go anywhere without having mapped out all bathroom locations with war-like planning precision. You can't take Excedrin, which in my opinion, is God's gift to the headache of being human.
Expecting a girl instead of a boy has only made it worse, because all this estrogen coursing through my veins has turned me into an exaggerated version of Tammy Faye Bakker. I cry about everything -- Christmas music, Deal or No Deal winners, the commercial they're running now about the death of Charmin's Mr. Whipple.
When people talk about the wonder of pregnancy, they're talking about wonder, alright: wondering if she'll be born with all her parts intact. Wondering if the fact that she hasn't kicked in 30 minutes means anything significant.
Wondering if today's the day she'll be born too early and have to start fighting for her life without mommy's help.
Which is why, of course, I will put up with all of it for as long as I can, baby girl, to give you a 24-hour better chance than you had yesterday. I love and dream for your brothers with more love and dreams than I thought a heart could contain, and I am weaving the same fabric of undying devotion for you, too. Hang in there, Katy Claire.
Of course, now I'm crying again.
Admittedly, if this blog had started 12 years ago, you would have already read full-blown descriptions of my laughable attempts to bring children on to this planet. The first one ended in a 2 pound, 9 oz baby boy at 30 weeks, with me having an emergency c-section while in a coma on life support. The second boy stayed in till 35 weeks, when my water broke because — according to my doctor —my body seems to treat my babies "as foreign allergens that it needs to protect you against." Funny how on some days I still feel that way about them.
This time we're waiting on our first little girl, Katy Claire Adkins. And while I'd like to say that this pregnancy experience has been night and day, totally different, and oh-so-much better, I consider myself a truthful person. And the truth is, being pregnant sucks.
You can't do what you want. You can't eat what you want. You can't wear what you want. You can't sleep on your stomach, you can't sleep on your back, you can't sleep at all. You can't go anywhere without having mapped out all bathroom locations with war-like planning precision. You can't take Excedrin, which in my opinion, is God's gift to the headache of being human.
Expecting a girl instead of a boy has only made it worse, because all this estrogen coursing through my veins has turned me into an exaggerated version of Tammy Faye Bakker. I cry about everything -- Christmas music, Deal or No Deal winners, the commercial they're running now about the death of Charmin's Mr. Whipple.
When people talk about the wonder of pregnancy, they're talking about wonder, alright: wondering if she'll be born with all her parts intact. Wondering if the fact that she hasn't kicked in 30 minutes means anything significant.
Wondering if today's the day she'll be born too early and have to start fighting for her life without mommy's help.
Which is why, of course, I will put up with all of it for as long as I can, baby girl, to give you a 24-hour better chance than you had yesterday. I love and dream for your brothers with more love and dreams than I thought a heart could contain, and I am weaving the same fabric of undying devotion for you, too. Hang in there, Katy Claire.
Of course, now I'm crying again.
0 comments:
Post a Comment